Still Waters
by MaverickLover2
Summary: What happens when the Maverick boys are off for the whole hot Texas summer? And one of them finds love for the very first time?
1. Summers Comin'

It was so hot it was almost unbearable; at least that's what the three boys thought as they walked home from school. Tomorrow was the last day of the school year, and it couldn't come fast enough as far as all three were concerned. There were no more books to carry, no more homework to do. Just a drawn-out, hot, lazy summer stretched in front of them. The prospect of a whole summer off made them practically drool with anticipation.

Not that they would have the summer with nothing to do. There were always chores, both inside and outside, poker lessons, poker games, and whatever else their father, uncle or surrogate mother could find for them to take care of. But there would be plenty of long, slow, lazy days, with nothing better to while away the time than ride their horses or swim in the river. Then there was also the looming promise of dances and overnight trips and the most exciting prospect of all – girls.

It was definitely going to be an exciting summer, and one that would prove a turning point for many aspects of their lives, and the three Mavericks couldn't wait for it to start.

"Remember, Miss Spencer said if we could all get to school early tomorrow she'd let us go early," Bret Maverick, the oldest of the three, reminded his two companions. First-born son of the clan patriarch, Beauregard, Bret turned fifteen in April and had already fulfilled the promise of being tall and well-built. "That means you HAVE to get up, Bart, whether you want to or not." The remark was directed at his younger brother, Bart, who wouldn't be fourteen until September.

"Yeah, sure," Bart answered. His growth spurt just begun, he was still reed-thin. Unlike his brother, who was dark-haired and dark-eyed, Bart had brown hair that turned blonde when he spent time in the sun, and eyes that were so brown and shiny they could be called chestnut. Thirteen or not, he'd already been noticed and paid attention to by every single girl in their schoolroom. There was something about those eyes – 'dancing eyes' they would be called when he got older. His mother's eyes.

The third member of the group was Beau, a cousin in name only to Bret and Bart. Beau was truly blonde, with blue eyes but the same tall, solid build as Bret, who was only six months older than Beau. He was the son of Bentley, Beauregard's brother, and the surrogate mother they all answered to was Lily Mae Connors, Bentley's long-time housekeeper. The boys had more in common than just their last name and blood – all three had lost their mother at an early age. Beau's mother Abigail died when he was not quite two; Bret and Bart's mother Isabelle when they were seven and five. The boys grew up together, more brothers than cousins. It would remain that way the rest of their lives.

Beau stopped walking and grabbed Bart by the shoulder. "Hey, this is important. Nobody wants to stay late the last day of school, so get your butt up out of bed in the mornin'. If you make us late I'll personally whale the tar out of ya. Understand?" Beau didn't get riled very often, so Bart was inclined to pay attention when he did.

"Alright, alright, I'll get up." Bart turned to his older brother. "No poker playin' tonight, got that?"

Bret grinned. "Whatever you say, Brother Bart." Bret took off running and Beau gave chase. Bart kept walking at the same pace, knowing that the two older boys would tire hurriedly in this heat and he'd catch up with them.

Sure enough, before he'd walked another quarter-mile he found them both panting, sitting under the shade of a tall Green Ash tree, with their shirt sleeves rolled up. _'Fools,'_ the thirteen-year-old thought to himself, and smirked at them as he walked leisurely past. They both scrambled to their feet and caught up with him. "Slow and steady," Bart told them. "It's too hot to run."

"He's probably right," Beau proclaimed. "Last one home has to clean up after supper!" And off the two of them went again, this time chased by the youngest, who had no intention of getting stuck helping Lily Mae again. Most days all three went to Beau's house after school, to be fed supper by Lily Mae. If it was still light out by the time they were finished they walked home; if not, they rode home with Bentley when he went to pick up Pappy for an evening of poker in town. This was one of the nights there'd be plenty of time to get home before dark, and that meant they'd get to spend some time with their father.

Beauregard enjoyed time with his sons, but since he was currently without a housekeeper figured it best they go to Ben's house for their evening meal. That way they didn't have to endure his cooking, meager as it was. Beauregard and Bentley went into Little Bend most every night to play poker; unless something special was happening that required their presence. They were both gamblers by trade, and all three boys were growing up with the intention of following in their footsteps.

This particular night was a special tradition; the last night before school was out for the summer Lily Mae made a roast and mashed potatoes, fresh biscuits and pecan pie for dessert. Then she avoided using the stove as much as possible for the remainder of the summer, with its constant heat. They practically lived off of fish the boys caught down at the river and vegetables from the garden. Beau was especially pleased when Lily made her famous roast – even after all these years of eating it he never tired of it, and knew that summer was only a day away when roast appeared on the table.

The three boys were arguing about just what Miss Spencer classified as 'early', and it was obvious that Bret was insistent he was correct. "Seven o'clock, I'm tellin' ya," could be heard, again and again, as he kept repeating it.

"What's all this noise?" Lily Mae questioned them as they tumbled into the kitchen of the big house, one after the other. "Ben's asleep and doesn't need the three of you wakin' him up just because tomorrow's the last day of school. Now, one at a time tell me what it's all about."

"Miss Spencer said she'd let us out early if we got there early," Beau repeated for Lily Mae's benefit. "But she didn't tell us HOW early we had to be."

"Seven o'clock," Bret repeated for at least the tenth time.

"School don't start till nine," Bart argued. "So why ain't eight o'clock early enough?"

"I think she just told us to get there early so we'd make it on time," Beau complained. "If she wanted us there at a certain time she'd a told us the time."

"I think you got a point, Beau. She didn't tell you what time, she just said early?" Lily Mae asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Bart answered.

"Sometimes we get there by nine o'clock," Bret insisted. "When I can get Bart up to help with the chores."

"How hard is it to feed the horses?" Bart asked.

"And the cows and the chickens and the pigs," Bret added.

"That don't answer what time we got to get there," Beau pointed out.

"No sir, it don't at that," Lily Mae agreed. "I think Miss Spencer'd be happy if you all got there on time, without any excuses."

"So, be there by nine and not be any earlier than that?" Bret couldn't believe they weren't going in before.

"Lily Mae's right. She's always right," Bart stated flatly.

"Thank you, Mr. B. I appreciate the thought, but I'm not always right."

"What is this stampede goin' on down here?" Bentley Maverick questioned as he appeared in the kitchen doorway.

Wrong question to ask. Bret, Bart, and Beau started by reiterating their own point of view, all at the same time. Ben leaned against the wall and nodded, trying to listen to all of the boys at once, and a look of amused bewilderment settled on his face. Bentley was tall like his brother, with the same dark hair as Beauregard, featuring a distinguished looking silver streak, and bright blue eyes. He wasn't quite as robust, but he was still a solidly built man. Sometimes he wore a mustache, sometimes a goatee; right now he was clean-shaven. And slightly rumpled, looking rather like he'd just gotten out of bed. Which, indeed, he had.

Ben waited until the boys had stopped babbling and looked at Lily Mae. "I agree with Lily," he told them, not having the faintest idea what any of them had said. He nodded at his housekeeper and smiled, and Lily Mae grinned and nodded back. Where his brother could be grumpy and sarcastic when rubbed the wrong way, Ben never seemed to lose his rather cheerful demeanor. He smiled at the boys and they went back to arguing among themselves, while Ben headed towards Lily Mae and that delightful smell. "School out tomorrow?"

"Yes sir, you know it. Boys, boys, are you all interested in arguing or supper?" Lily's question was immediately answered by total silence. "Well, I see supper wins again," she said as she filled plates and passed them out. Soon all four Maverick men were engaged with dinner and Lily Mae sighed openly. "Ah, the sweet sound of silence," she remarked and filled her own plate. "Eat, Mr. B, eat," she urged the youngest Maverick, who seemed to have eaten about half of what his brother and cousin had.

"I'm full, Lily Mae," Bart answered. "I can't eat another bite."

"Now how do you expect to grow up to be big and strong like your brother if you don't eat?"

"I don't," was the logical answer. "But I could eat some dessert."

Four pairs of eyes looked at her expectantly. "You know I made it," she told them. "You just have to wait a few minutes." There was a general moaning and groaning that caused Lily to laugh so hard she couldn't eat anymore. "Alright, alright, pecan pie next."

When everyone was finished, Beau began gathering the plates. Bart had actually managed to beat his cousin in the race to the house when Beau stumbled and almost fell. He had one last thing to tell them before they left for home. "I'll be there at eight o'clock."

"I hope not," Bart mumbled as he and Bret headed for the front door.

"Tell your father I'll see him around nine," Ben reminded them.

"Yes, Uncle Ben."

"Yes, sir."

Bret and Bart headed down the road, towards the little house they called home. "Don't know why Pappy don't come to one of these special suppers Lily Mae fixes," Bart remarked. "He's sure missin' a great meal."

"Guess he's got other things to do," Bret answered his brother. "Although I don't quite know what."

As the boys got closer to the house they saw their father escort a young lady out to her buggy and up into the driver's seat. "Well, thanks for comin' by, Cindy Jean. I'll let ya know what I decide."

The brothers looked at each other. "I could stand it if she was our new housekeeper," Bret stated frankly. "Fine lookin'."

"Yeah, but can she cook?" Bart asked, and they laughed. Neither one actually believed that Cindy Jean had been there to interview as Beauregard's next housekeeper. Their father had loved their mother, there was no doubt about that. But momma had been dead for a long time, and Pappy was still a man with healthy appetites. "Oh well, at least we know why Pappy didn't make it to supper. Again."

Beau stood on the porch and waited for his sons to get all the way home. "Celebratory dinner?" he asked.

"Same as always," Bret answered. "You lookin' for a housekeeper again, Pappy?"

"Yes, boys, I am. Cindy Jean is a fine young lady with excellent references."

"And an excellent figure," Bret murmured to his brother.

"Let's go practice some," Beau suggested. "I've got time before your Uncle Ben gets here."

The three Maverick men went inside the house to see just who could beat whom at five-card draw on this last night before summer began. Before things began to change for everyone.


	2. We Will Gather at the River

Chapter 2 – We Will Gather at the River

It must have been Beau's threat to 'whale the tar' out of Bart that did the job, because he and Bret were ready to leave for school when their cousin arrived. "Chores all done?" Beau asked.

"Whatta you think?" Bart responded.

"They're done," Bret assured him as the three of them set off for their last day of imprisonment.

"We goin' down to the river after school?"

"Yep, that's the plan."

"I got somethin' to do first," Bret finally responded.

"What? What's more important than swimmin'?" his brother asked.

"I gotta . . . . . I gotta . . . . . never mind, I got somethin' to do, that's all."

Beau's question was almost a whisper. "Is it a . . . . . girl?"

"What if it is?"

"Is it Mary Alice?" Bart persisted.

"Well . . . . . . I guess."

Beau shook his head at the admission. "I saw you talkin' to her at lunch yesterday."

"So?"

"Whatta you two talkin' about?"

"Just stuff."

"What stuff?"

Bret stopped walking. "What difference does it make?"

Bart stared at his brother. "Was it . . . . you know."

"No, I don't know. Was it what?"

"Was it about . . . . . . kissin' an stuff?"

The answer Bart got was indignant. "No, it was about . . . her pappy."

"Oh."

"I'll be along to the river soon as I walk her home."

Now it was Bart's turn to be indignant. "That's what you gotta do? Walk her home? An that's more important than swimmin'?"

Bret said nothing, just hurried to get ahead of Beau and Bart. They were almost at school and he didn't want to hear any more talk about the river OR Mary Alice. Miss Spencer was standing outside on the school steps smiling at them.

"Told ya we shoulda got here sooner," Bret needled as he took off running. Bart and Beau followed and the schoolteacher was very nearly laughing as the three of them ran up the steps, almost out of breath.

"I'm proud of you, boys," Miss Spencer told them. "You're not the last ones here. And you're early, as I requested."

Bret smiled and blushed and Beau looked confused, which was the way he always felt around the teacher. Young and pretty, she had a way of looking at you like you were the only one in the world. Beau was experiencing the first throes of manhood, and everything about girls and women confused him. Bart paid no attention to any of it, just rushed inside and took his seat, proud of not being the last to arrive. It didn't happen often.

Fred Taylor scooted in and dropped down next to Bart. They were just beginning their friendship but had already formed a strong bond. Whenever Bret and Beau had something else to do, Bart and Fred were together. "You comin' to the river with me an Beau?"

"Just you two? What happened to your brother?"

"He's got a girlfriend," Bart replied disdainfully, as if a girlfriend was something to be looked down on.

"Mary Alice Tompkins?" Fred asked in a hushed tone.

"You already know?"

Fred nodded after looking around the room to make sure nobody was watching. "Yeah, I saw 'em out by the bushes, talkin' an holdin' hands. You didn't know?"

"NO!" Bart protested vehemently, so loud that half the front row turned around to look at him. Now it was Bart's turn to blush, and he did. "When was that?"

"Day before yesterday," Fred whispered.

Miss Spencer closed the schoolroom door as Jamie Stampers practically ran down the aisle. He slid in next to Fred and he and Bart exchanged glances. Jamie was Fred's friend, from a long time ago, and he and Bart were wary of each other. Jamie seemed to be a good sort, and he played a decent game of poker, but Bart was still cautious around him. Maverick looked at the back of the classroom, where Bret and Beau sat together. Mary Alice was on the other side of his brother, and Bart grimaced. _'Is that how it's_ _gonna be from now on?_ ' he wondered, but quickly quit watching them when he heard his name called by Miss Spencer.

"Mr. Maverick, I want to congratulate you. Not only were you not the last one here today, you were actually early. See what you can accomplish when you set your mind to it?"

The whole class tittered, and Bart laughed with them, in a jovial mood because it was the last day of school and from what Pappy said, he and Bret might not have to come back next year. They could already read and write, and both were old enough to be playing poker in the Little Bend saloons. This was the first summer they weren't going to work on a cattle drive; Pappy had long ago promised them a summer off. The youngest Maverick couldn't imagine a whole summer to do whatever he wanted, but he was certainly looking forward to it.

The morning went by slowly. It consisted mostly of listening to everyone's plans for the upcoming vacation and doing some reading out loud; Bart and Fred were both fidgety and anxious for the day to be over. When it came time for lunch Miss Spencer unexpectedly announced, "Class dismissed for the summer. Go on home, everyone, we've finished another year!"

There was a fair amount of whooping and hollering as everyone raced for the door. Being dismissed this early in the day had never happened before, and Bart was almost the last one out. He met Fred and Beau outside; Jamie Stampers had evidently gone home and his brother was nowhere to be seen.

"The river?" Beau asked.

"The river," Bart answered.

As was their habit, when the three boys reached the river they stripped down to jeans and dove in. After the heat of the morning and the walk to get there, the temperature of the water felt wonderful. Bart ducked all the way under and his hair stuck to his head, hanging down into his eyes. "You need a haircut," Beau called to him, and Bart ducked under again and pushed his hair off of his face when he came up.

"Yeah, I need to see Lily Mae," Bart answered. "Think she could cut it this afternoon?" he asked Beau.

"Don't see why not, long as you ask her nice," his cousin replied.

"I always ask Lily Mae nice."

"That's true. For some reason she likes you," Bret called to them from the riverbank. It only took him a minute or two to skin off his shirt and boots and dive into the river with the other three boys.

"Thought you were too busy to join us."

"I didn't say that. I said I had somethin' I had to do first. It's done an I'm here. Hey, Fred."

Bret liked Fred Taylor. He was the first close friend that Bart had made in a long time, and he seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. Even if he had some other friends that were questionable, he hadn't brought them around Bart. Maybe his becoming friends with Bret's younger brother was his attempt to get away from some of those people. Like Earnie Night. Earnie could be pleasant enough when he wanted to be, but he had a bad habit of finding or creating trouble. Bret had a feeling that was going to wreak havoc somewhere down the line in his life. Now that Fred and Bart were spending a lot of time together, Earnie might fade into the background. At least, Bret hoped so.

"Bret."

Beau swam over. "You take Mary Alice home?"

"Yeah. Her and her Pa – they're not gettin' along so good right now. She just wanted somebody to talk to. Your pa's goin' with me an Pappy to Austin next week. You goin'?"

"Yep. Sounds like a good idea. Is Bart gonna go?"

Bret shook his head. "He hasn't said yet. I don't know what he's thinkin'. Is he mad at me?"

"I don't think so, cousin. I think he's mad at Mary Alice."

"Mary Alice? Why?"

"Cause she's gettin' your attention instead of him."

That was puzzling to Bret. "Jealous, you mean? But why?"

"Cause he don't understand girls yet."

Bret burst out laughing and splashed his cousin. "And you do? That's a good one, Beau!"

Beau didn't think it was funny. "Yeah. Well, I understand better than Bart does!"

"I think the heat's gotten to you, cousin!"

And just like teenage boys, all four laughed and horsed around in the water the rest of the afternoon.


	3. No Good Can Come of It

Chapter 3 – No Good Can Come of It

Bart had gone home with Beau in the hopes of persuading Lily Mae to cut his hair, so tonight it was just Pappy and Bret going to Little Bend for poker. It was the first time they'd gone without Bart in a while, but the youngest Maverick needed a night away from his brother and father. Ben had already planned on staying home tonight, so no one was by themselves this evening.

Something had been bothering Bret ever since he'd come home this afternoon, and he said maybe four or five words at supper. Beauregard couldn't figure out what he had to be worried about; school was over for him, for all practical purposes, he hadn't obligated himself to any cattle drives this summer, and he had money in his pocket from his poker winnings. When Beau could stand it no longer he finally asked his firstborn what was wrong. He wasn't expecting what he heard.

"I don't know. I mean I'm not sure. It doesn't make any sense. Pappy, it's Bart." Bret sighed audibly.

"What's your brother done now?" Beauregard loved both of his sons desperately, but Bret never made him worry the way Bart did. The only thing that kept his youngest out of serious trouble was common sense and those puppy-dog eyes.

"Nothin', really. He's just bein' . . . . . he's just bein' . . . . .Bart."

Beauregard laughed, and Bret gave him a look. "It ain't funny."

"I know, son. But who else do you expect him to be?"

"He was a brat today."

That elicited another smile from Pappy. "So were you at that age."

Bret snorted derisively. "No I wasn't."

That might have technically been true, but Beau was trying to make a point with his son. "Maybe not all the time. But sometimes."

"He's changin', Pappy."

That almost got another laugh, until Beauregard saw the pained look on Bret's face. "We're all changin', boy. Every one of us, every day. He'll come round sooner or later."

"Hope to God it's sooner."

"Enough about yer brother tonight. What's goin' on with you?"

"Nothin'."

"Yer outta school, you ain't got a cattle drive this summer, and there's nothin' goin' on?"

"I . . . . I been keepin' company with somebody."

This was the first Beauregard had heard about it. "Oh? Anybody I know?"

"Why would you know her? Mary Alice Tompkins."

"Ben Tompkins girl?"

"Yeah."

That could be bad news. Ben Tompkins was a rotten poker player and a mean drunk. More than that, there was something odd about the way he talked about his daughter. Almost as if she were . . . . . he was probably imagining things anyway. "Be careful there."

"What ain't you tellin' me, Pappy?'

"Nothin' about Mary Alice. It's her Pa."

"She's been havin' trouble with him. She won't tell me exactly what, though." Beauregard shook his head. They were on their way into town, and Bret pulled his horse up alongside his father. "What can you tell me about him?"

"Ben's a drinker, and he ain't a good drinker. Gets mouthy an nasty when he's in the bottle. Mean nasty. And he's a lousy poker player. Just bad, the kind you don't wanna play." Beauregard said nothing about the odd way Ben Tompkins spoke of his daughter. They could just be the ravings of a lunatic drunk. "You more than just friends?"

"N-n-n-n-no . . . . . . I mean yes . . . . . maybe. I ain't sure."

"Just so's ya remember what I taught ya. Be respectful, an polite. An don't do nothin' you'd be ashamed to tell me about."

"Pappy!"

"I'm just sayin', that's all."

Even in the darkness Pappy could see his son blushing. Beauregard tried to remember what it was like to be fifteen years old, but his memory was hazy at best. His brother Bentley was lucky; he only had to survive one son being this age. Beau had two of them to cope with; how was he going to get through this without his beloved Belle?

XXXXXXXX

"Where's your brother?" Lily Mae asked as soon as Bart and Beau came rolling through the front door.

"Went home. He's spendin' the night with Pappy in Little Bend."

"Oh? And you decided not to go?"

Bart turned the puppy-dog eyes and megawatt smile on Lily Mae. "I wanted to see you."

"And just what do you want from me? Cause I know there's a 'please, Lily Mae' comin' somewhere!"

Bart's grin got even bigger. "Could you cut my hair, Lily? Please?"

The housekeeper laughed. "Is that all? For that big smile? I thought you was gonna ask me to do somethin' real hard, Mr. B."

"Ain't that hard?"

"It is if you don't sit still!"

Beau wandered in and sat at the table to watch the proceedings. "You want a haircut, too?" Lily Mae asked.

"He don't need one," Bart pronounced.

"Yes I do." Beau ran his hand through his hair. "It's gettin' long."

Bart turned around to tell Lily Mae conspiratorially, "He likes Miss Spencer. He's afraid she'll think it's too long."

"Do not," Beau shot back.

"Do too," Bart responded.

"Stop it, both of you. Or I'll cut your ears off."

Both boys suddenly became quiet. Lily Mae continued with Bart's haircut without further interruption, and when she finished motioned Beau to take a seat in front of her. Bart stood up and shook his head, then brushed his hair back into place. "Thanks, Lily Mae."

"You're welcome, Mr. B. Sit still, Beau," she instructed, and Beau stopped his wiggling just as his father walked into the room.

"Well, now we're a barbershop, eh?" Bentley asked. "Anybody interested in some poker?"

"Me!" Bart answered immediately.

"Me too!" Beau quickly followed.

"How about you, Lily?" Bentley questioned.

"Nope, Mr. Ben. I got supper almost ready, then clean-up, then I gotta go home. With any luck Johnny's comin' home tonight." Johnny was Lily Mae's husband, a drover on whatever cattle drive he could catch on with. He wasn't home a lot, and whenever he was Lily Mae spent as much time with him as possible.

"No clean-up, Lily. Just get on outta here. These two mischief makers can take care of cleanin' up for ya."

"Yes, sir. I can do that gladly. Alright, Beau, yer done. Now, who's ready for supper?"

XXXXXXXX

As luck would have it, Ben Tompkins was both playing poker and drinking at the Little Bend Bar. Beauregard ended up at the same table, Bret played elsewhere. They were only in the second or third hand after Beau joined the game when the man started getting belligerent. "Has he been drinkin' the whole time?" Beau leaned over and asked Lester Jonas, who was sitting to his right.

"Yep," Lester answered. "Come in here about six o'clock and started up then. Don't know why the man drinks when he can't handle his liquor."

"Hey, are you two gonna gab or play cards?" Tompkins asked.

Beauregard was tempted to make a remark, but for once thought better of it. He glanced at the table to his immediate left, where Bret was playing and steadily winning, according to the pile of chips in front of him. Better not start anything that he'd rather his son not see. Though older than most of the other men at the poker table, Beau was still more than able to hold his own in any kind of physical dispute. "Sorry," was the only thing he said, and tried his hardest to look contrite, an expression that sat on Beau's countenance uneasily at best.

Ben Tompkins threw a disgruntled glance at Beau and Lester, and muttered something that sounded like 'old men' under his breath. Beauregard reminded himself why he'd chosen to remain silent in the first place, and let the remark go. Lester was in no mood to do so, however, and looked right at Beau. "Don't apologize, Beau – you've nothin' to apologize for."

"Let it go, Lester," the gambler answered, as Tompkins glared at them. "I don't want no trouble."

"Ain't gonna be no trouble, old man."

"I need a smoke," Beau announced as he pushed his chair back from the table. He headed for the batwing doors and walked out into the night, where he put his foot up on the water trough and pulled out a cigar. Before he could light a match one appeared out of the dark. He looked over to see his oldest standing there, holding the match, and he lit his cigar. "Thanks, son."

"My pleasure, Pappy," Bret answered him. "Thanks."

"For what, boy?"

"For walkin' away from Mary Alice's pa."

"No big deal, Bret."

"Yes sir, whatever you say."

"You carryin' matches around now?" Beau asked. He knew the answer to that. Bret smoked, though not often, and he suspected his thirteen-year-old did, too.

"Just for you, Pa." Bret hadn't called him 'Pa' for a long time. "Is he always like that?"

"Who? Tompkins?"

Bret nodded.

"Only when he drinks."

"Then why drink?"

"Well, son, men do it for lotsa different reasons. Some do it to remember, some do it to forget. Some do it because they wanna fit in, some because they got no reason not to. Some like the taste. Some like the way it makes 'em feel. Some do it for all those reasons."

"You don't drink. Why not?"

"Cause I liked it too much, boy. I couldn't play poker when I drank. Hell, I couldn't do nothin' but drink. The day came I had to choose, and ya know which one I picked. I don't want ya to face that same choice, cause Ben Tompkins belligerence is only one thing that can happen when ya do. There's too many others, and ain't none of 'em any good. I hope ya always remember that."

"I'll do my best, Pappy. I promise."


	4. Mary Alice and Cora

Chapter 4 – Mary Alice and Cora

"I can't see you anymore, Bret."

It was almost a week after school let out for the summer, and Mary Alice was sitting on a blanket under the desert willow tree that shaded the Maverick graveyard. There were only two occupants of the family cemetery, Isabelle Maverick and Abigail Maverick, the wives of Beauregard and Bentley. Isabelle had been here for over eight years, Abigail longer than that. Bret and Mary Alice Tompkins came up here a lot to sit and talk. It was peaceful and quiet. And usually, there was no one here but them.

This afternoon was no different. While the hot winds blew on the flatlands below, right now there was a fresh, pleasant breeze up in the hills. The statement had neither startled nor surprised Bret; he was almost sure it was coming after his father's alleged 'run-in' with Ben Tompkins in the Little Bend Bar. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't what either of them wanted, but it wasn't unexpected.

"Because of the disagreement with Pappy?" Bret asked.

Mary Alice nodded. Tall and willowy, with long strawberry colored hair and unspeakably blue eyes, she was on the verge of tears, not for the first time. "Pa says your father disrespected him."

"Hmmpf," was Bret's only answer.

"Say somethin'," she pleaded.

"Nothin' to say," the on-the-verge of being a man answered. "Can't change your pa's mind. I was there, remember? The only thing my pappy said was 'sorry,' and if that's disrespect I don't know what else to talk about."

"That's all he said?"

"That and 'I need a smoke.' Your Pa was . . . . . drunk. And in a bad mood. Like he gets with you."

"I know. But what am I supposed to do?" Her voice held a mixture of disbelief and fear.

"Do what yer Pa says. Or . . . . . . "

"Or what?" Mary Alice sat leaning against the tree, with Bret's head in her lap. She was willing to listen to any ideas he had that would help her to ignore her father's instructions.

"Don't. How's he gonna know who yer seein'?" Bret rolled over and looked up at Mary Alice. She was so sweet, so nice, how did she ever end up with the Pa she had? A better question was, how did a man as mean and angry as Ben Tompkins ever end up with a beautiful daughter like Mary Alice?

"He'd know. There has to be a better way."

"What if – " Bret stopped.

"What if what?" the girl asked.

"What if I got him to change his mind?"

"How?"

"Invite me over for supper."

"What good's that gonna do?"

"Just invite me to supper. As soon as possible. And leave the rest to me."

XXXXXXXX

Meanwhile, Bart had problems of his own. Fred had been showing up regularly on the river bank that the Mavericks frequented, bringing Jamie Stampers with him almost every time he came. On occasion Earnie Night came along, too. Bart and Earnie got along fine from the beginning, but there was something about Jamie; he still seemed wary of Bart and acted like he didn't want to be around the gamblers son. No matter how he treated Jamie, nothing changed. Slowly it became a difficult situation. Bart was uncomfortable when Jamie was around, and he didn't like feeling that way. The first day that Fred came alone Bart pulled him aside to talk to him.

"Fred, I got a problem. Have you and Jamie been friends for a long time?"

"Well, yeah, Bart, ever since school started. Why?"

Bart absentmindedly pushed a rock in the water around with his foot. "I . . . . . I just don't get along so good with Jamie. Seems like he always wants to argue with me about somethin'. Like he don't want me to be here. I ain't goin' nowhere, Fred, and I don't want no trouble."

"Yeah, Bart, I don't know what's wrong. I noticed it, too. We're supposed to go ridin' this afternoon. Want me to talk to him?"

"You think he'd tell ya if there was somethin' wrong? Like, did I say somethin' that he didn't like or somethin'?"

Fred was just as confused as Bart. "I'll try. I'll let ya know what he says."

They went back to swimming and horsing around with Beau, and the conflict was forgotten. Two days later, the next time Fred met the Mavericks at the river, the truth finally came out. "It ain't your fault, Bart, that ain't got nothin' to do with it."

The day was another scorcher and the boys were floating in the cool water of the river. Bart pushed himself over towards Fred so they could talk quietly, and finally asked, "Well, what is it then?"

Fred giggled nervously. "It's Jamie's sister, Cora. His older sister. She . . . . she likes you."

"He's got a sister?"

"Yeah, that blonde always sits in the front row? You know, the one with all the curls?"

"And the little pink bows in her hair?"

Fred smiled. So Bart HAD noticed her. "Yeah, that one."

"How much older?"

"How much . . . . oh, she's fourteen, almost fifteen."

Bart thought about that for a minute. Cora was pretty in an 'older woman' sort of way. He had, indeed, noticed her. The last two weeks of school he'd done nothing but notice her. The way she tilted her head when she was listening to Miss Spencer, the way she smiled at him when she turned around, the way she walked when she left in the afternoon, the way her perfect little lips looked to him . . . . . . . _'wait a_ _minute,'_ he thought, _'she's a girl. An OLDER girl. A PRETTY older girl. And she likes me?'_

"So? Why does that bother him?"

"He don't wanna be friends with somebody his sister likes!"

"That's his reason?"

"That's what he says."

Bart gave that some thought. "So if she didn't like me no more . . . . . "

"He'd be friends. Yep, that's about it."

"So all I gotta do is make sure she don't like me no more?"

"Uh-huh. How ya gonna do that?"

Bart climbed out of the water and sat down on the river bank. "I'll think a somethin'." He needed to talk to somebody. Beau? No, too immature sometimes. Bret? No, he'd hardly seen his brother in a week. Then the perfect answer came to him. Lily Mae. Certainly Lily Mae would be able to tell him what he could do to 'discourage' Cora Stampers. "Hey, Beau!" Bart yelled. "I gotta talk to ya!"


	5. Skinning the Cat

Chapter 5 – Skinning the Cat

The next day Mary Alice was given the approval to invite the young suitor to dinner – as her father put it, "So I can tell him myself you can't see him anymore."

The girl wasn't at all sure what good it was going to do, but Bret had been adamant about the dinner invitation and she'd managed to get him one. She spent the afternoon cooking and Bret spent the afternoon getting ready – making sure his best everyday shirt and jeans were clean and ready to wear, deciding just what he was going to say and how he was going to say it, and picking every wildflower he could find. Came time to leave and Bret was, for once, pleased that Pappy had slept late and had no idea where he was going.

Bret really drew four aces for this deal. Bart had come in, worn out from swimming and horsing around all day, and laid down to nap before tonight's poker session in Little Bend. No Pappy to discourage him and no little brother to tease him unmercifully, he took one last glance in the small mirror the boys had in their room and left to saddle his horse.

He arrived right on time and dismounted cautiously, making sure not to lose any of the flowers he had so carefully gathered. Hat in one hand, flowers temporarily in the other, he was pleased to see Mary Alice already holding the door open for him. "Miss Tompkins," he greeted her, and she looked at him like he was crazy. "These are for you." He presented her with the wildflowers and walked into the front room.

It was a small house, much like the Mavericks, and despite the fact that it was a warm June day there was a fire going in the fireplace. Ben Tompkins sat almost directly in front of the fire and called over his shoulder, "Come in, young man, come in."

"Yes, sir. Thank you." Bret walked over to the elder Tompkins and stuck out his hand. Ben shook it warily, almost as if he'd expected something other than a handshake. The young man wasted no time. "I'm appreciative of the invitation to supper, sir. It gives me the opportunity to express to you personally how deeply sorry I am for the disrespectful way my father treated you last week in Little Bend."

"It does?" Mary Alice's father questioned. "I mean, you do?"

"Oh, yes, sir, I was most profoundly saddened to hear my father speak to you in such a manner. And after you'd done nothing but remind him that you were all engaged in the noble sport of playing poker, and not there to waste time on idle gossip."

Bret had Tompkins in the palm of his hand; he could see it in the older man's eyes. It had been a long time since anyone had treated him with the respect and courtesy he felt he deserved, and so far this young Maverick was doing just that. _'Maybe this ain't such a bad kid after all,'_ his permanently befuddled brain told him. "Yeah, idle gossip." The already somewhat inebriated father sat up a little straighter in his chair and actually graced the young man in front of him with a smile. "Sounds like you got more sense than yer pa."

"I just wanted to tell you how terribly sorry I am for the manner in which you were treated, and to let you know that I do not share my father's penchant for wasting a gentleman's time so frivolously."

"Uh, thanks. Mary Alice, don't just stand there. Put those flowers in some water."

Bret turned to the girl. "Miss Tompkins, may I assist you with that task?"

Mary Alice, too bewildered to say anything, nodded. Bret excused himself from his seat and followed her to the sink. "What was all that?" she whispered.

"Just a little trick I learned from my Pappy," he whispered back.

She snuck a glance at her father and nudged Bret. "Look."

Ben Tompkins, mean drunk, sat staring into the fire with a half-full glass in his hand. Smiling.

XXXXXXXX

The two young sweethearts walked hand-in-hand through the meadow behind the house. Mary Alice kept laughing uncontrollably. "Shhhhhh," Bret told her. "He'll hear you."

"He won't. He's passed out drunk. Got his belly full of food and whiskey and he won't hear a thing!" She stopped under the first tree they came to and turned to look at the young man standing next to her. "Where'd you learn to do somethin' like that?"

"I told you. I learned it from Pappy. Easier to catch flies with honey than vinegar."

"Nobody's ever turned his opinion around like that before. You must know some kinda magic."

"Maybe. Let's see if it works out here." Bret leaned in and kissed Mary Alice, softly, slowly, tenderly, and left her almost breathless.

"Oh, my," was all she could say as she leaned back against the tree trunk. "Do you – would you – could you – "

"Uh, huh," he answered, gently placing his hands on her upper arms and kissing her again. She closed her eyes and he slipped his arms around her, pulling her even closer to him.

"Bret, I – " she started to say but was stopped by another slow, tender joining of their lips.

"You wanted to say something?" he murmured softly as he pulled imperceptibly away from her.

"Uh-uh," she answered, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning in ever-so-close again. Bret was the first boy she'd ever kissed, and if this is what it was like she wanted more. He willingly obliged. Five or ten minutes passed enjoyably before he stepped back half a step.

"I should go," Bret told her.

"I don't want you to go," Mary Alice whispered back.

"That's exactly why I should," he answered. "Before your Pa decides he doesn't like me quite so much after all."

She didn't look at all happy. "When will I see you again?"

"You want to?" He really didn't need to hear an answer, the way her blue eyes were shining when he looked into them.

"Yes, of course."

"Do you swim?"

"When there's no one around."

He wasn't quite certain what she meant by that. Surely she wouldn't skinny-dip, would she? Quickly he discarded the thought. "I can come over and get you. We can go down to the river. Tomorrow afternoon? When all the children have gone in to take naps?" He'd just referred to his brother and his cousin as 'children'. Well, they were. He was the oldest, and the most mature, after all. And if he said it out loud and was overheard he'd never be forgiven. It didn't matter, Mary Alice was smiling and nodding. "Okay, about three o'clock?"

"Yes," she whispered, and leaned in for one last kiss of the night. This time, it was the girl that pulled back. Two could play that game, after all. She took his hand and led him back across the meadow. Now they had to be proper, just in case her father was awake and watching them. They strolled around to the front of the house, Mary Alice leading Bret back to his horse. He clutched her hand and smiled, then let go of her and mounted.

"I'll be here at three," he said and turned the stallion for home.

Mary Alice stood and watched him ride away until she could no longer see anything in the dark. For the first time in quite a while, she couldn't wait for it to be tomorrow.


	6. A Way Out

Chapter 6 – A Way Out

"Lily Mae, I need your help with somethin' important." Bart was sitting in the kitchen of Uncle Ben's house. He'd been waiting patiently for Lily Mae to finish what she was doing so he could have her full attention when he presented her with his problem.

"Alright, Mr. B., I'll be glad to give any help I can." Lily had just finished pulling an apple pie from the stove and was more than ready to sit down for a spell and cool off. "You want some lemonade? I just made it this mornin'."

"Yes'm," the boy answered, knowing that Lily's was the best lemonade in the valley. She poured them both a glass and sat at the table.

"What can I help you with?"

Bart searched for just the right words to explain his dilemma. "I need help gettin' a girl to not like me."

"Alright – wait, did you say to NOT like you?"

He shook his head solemnly. "Yes'm. To NOT like me."

Lily took a long swallow of lemonade while she thought about the question. "Why ever would you want that, Mr. B?"

"Well, see, you know me an Beau been hangin' out with Fred Taylor, don't ya?"

"I've heard about your new friendship with Fred, yeah."

"Well, Fred's got this other friend, Jamie Stampers. I been tryin' to get along with Jamie, but he just don't seem to like me no matter what I do. So Fred asked him how come? An Jamie said it was all cause his sister likes me and he don't think it's right to be friends with somebody his sister likes. So if I can get her to stop likin' me, then Jamie and I can be friends."

Lily Mae wanted to laugh so hard it was killing her, because she knew that she shouldn't. "You got a problem there, Bart. You sure you want Jamie's sister to quit likin' you?"

"Well . . . . . . "

"What's her name?"

"Cora."

"And what does this young lady look like?"

"What does that have to do with it, Lily?"

Lily suppressed a giggle. "Humor me, Mr. B."

"She's got light colored hair, an it's all curly an she wears bows in it. And she's got real pretty eyes. You oughta see her when she walks – it sure is nice. An a real pretty smile, an – "

"That's enough, Mr. B. You like this girl?"

Bart shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. She's a girl. How do ya like girls?"

"You've sure noticed a lot about her."

He shrugged again. "I guess. Maybe. What difference does that make?"

Lily shook her head. Whether Bart wanted to admit it or not, he'd certainly noticed the girl. "Are you real sure about Cora? Sounds like you been payin' an awful lotta attention to her. How old is she?"

Bart scratched his head, trying to remember. "I think Fred said she's almost fifteen."

Almost fifteen. The age when girls started looking for husbands. Was that what she had in mind? Bart was too young for that, Lily Mae was sure of it. But he'd paid enough attention to Cora Stampers to remember all those things about her, and he was almost fourteen. Just about the right age to start being aware of girls. She'd seen all the same clues in Beau, and hoped that Bentley had explained certain things to his son. Had Beauregard talked to his son about – well, about things a father should talk to his son about? Knowing Beauregard, she highly doubted it. Lily Mae wasn't about to bring the subject up with the elder Maverick, but maybe she could wheedle it out of his son.

"Bart, what did your pappy tell you about girls?'

Bart looked startled. "What?"

"What did your pappy tell you about girls?"

"Well, I, uh . . . . . girls? He said . . . . he said they was fragile an strong, an needed to be respected. An to take care of 'em, and never to embarrass him."

"Embarrass him?"

"Yes'm, by doin' somethin' you wasn't supposed to."

"Is that all?"

"Yes'm."

Maybe that was enough. "Well, Mr. B, I think you gotta talk to Cora an tell her what the problem is."

"You do?" Bart looked doubtful.

"Yeah, I do. I think you gotta tell her why she's gotta stop likin' you. Just explain it, straightforward like. She'll appreciate it. That way she can go on an find somebody else to like. But don't do nothin' to hurt her or her feelin's. You understand?"

"I . . . . I guess. You sure? It don't make much sense, Lily Mae." The boy shook his head.

"Bart, I got a secret to tell ya. Girls don't never make no sense to boys."

"They don't?"

Lily Mae gave a little chuckle, at last. "They don't honey. Not till yer a whole lot older."

Bart sighed, the first of many sighs in his life. "If that's what I gotta do, then I gotta do it."

XXXXXXXX

The next time Jamie Stampers came to the river with Fred, Bart pulled him aside. "I need to talk to you."

"Yeah, what about?" Jamie asked.

"About yer sister."

Jamie looked surprised. "C-C-C-C-Cora?"

"You got another sister?"

"No."

"Then yeah, Cora." Bart walked away from the rest of the group, and Jamie followed him. "I need to talk to her."

"What for?" Jamie asked suspiciously.

"That's between me an her." Jamie made a face and Bart spat out, "To tell her she can't like me."

"Fred told you."

"He was 'sposed to. I made him ask. I gotta get this straightened out, Jamie. I don't want no girl thinkin' she can like me an it's alright with me."

"You don't?"

"NO! So you gotta get her to talk to me. I'm just gonna tell her to stop it."

It didn't take Jamie long to make up his mind. "OK. I'll get her to talk to ya."

"Okay."

XXXXXXXX

Two days later Jamie himself came out to the Maverick Ranch. Bart was outside, having just finished his chores, and hoped that Jamie had good news for him. He did, sort of. "I told Cora you wanted to talk to her. She said there's a barn dance on Friday and she'll be there. You can talk to her then."

Bart spit on the ground. "I ain't goin' to no dance just to talk to a girl."

Jamie shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know what to tell ya then, she says it's Friday or nothin'."

"Shoot. Where is it?"

"Miller's barn, the one they got in town. 'Bout eight o'clock. You be there?"

Bart nodded. "Don't guess I got much choice, do I?"

Jamie grinned at last. "Not if you wanna talk to her. See ya." He wheeled his horse around, back down the road towards town.

"Darn it. Now whatta I do?"

Bret came out of the barn and walked towards Bart and the house. A thought crossed Bart's mind, and the more he turned it over in his head the better it sounded. "Hey, Bret . . . . . . . "


	7. Love and Other Vices

Chapter 7 – Love and Other Vices

"Pappy, I need to borrow the buggy this afternoon." Bret was having breakfast with his father when he made the request. Normally Beauregard would be asleep at this time of the day but he'd skipped breakfast in Little Bend and come home to eat with his son. He knew Bret had gone to the Tompkins house for supper last night and was curious to see what, if anything, had come of it.

"Oh? For something special?"

"Yeah."

Beau did his best not to snicker. Bret was getting more and more like him every day, never volunteering more information than he had to when answering a question. "And just what would that be?"

"Picking up Mary Alice. We're going down to the river to swim."

"You and Mary Alice. Mary Alice Tompkins?"

"Yeah."

"Somethin' happen at supper last night you wanna tell me about?"

"No."

That was too much to let pass. Bret was being deliberately evasive, and they both knew it. "What happened?"

"I went to her house. We had supper. We went for a walk. That's all."

"Where was her Pa while this was happenin'?"

Bret glanced down at the floor for just a moment before answering. "He was there."

"An he didn't say nothin' to you about last week?"

"Not much, really."

"Was he conscious or passed out drunk?"

"He had supper with us."

"Alright, boy, what ain't you tellin' me?"

Bret sighed. He'd been caught being deliberately vague and he knew it. "I apologized for you disrespecting him in the LB Bar."

"Apologized – what – me being – you what?" Beauregard thought he was doing good by not yelling, but there was a note of extreme aggravation in his voice.

"I knew you wouldn't like it, Pappy, that's why I didn't say nothin'. That was the only way I was gonna get to keep seein' Mary Alice, if I apologized. So I did, an it worked. Her Pa ain't got no more objections to me bein' around her."

Beau sat there and watched his firstborn, trying to decide if he was proud that Bret figured out a way to deal with Old Man Tompkins or upset that Bret had lied his way out of the situation. He thought about it for a minute before deciding that peace was better than war, especially a war that would accomplish nothing. Finally he sighed, accepting the fact that Bret's feelings were, at this moment at least, more important than his. "Alright. I 'spose ya did what ya had to do. So long as I don't hafta eat crow next time I see her Pa."

Bret smiled at his father. "Does that mean I can use the buggy?"

"Yeah, son, you can use the buggy." Beauregard had mixed emotions about the solution. His son had just found a way to solve a problem he'd had no hand in creating, without Beau's help or guidance. He looked at the youngster sitting in front of him with pride, that he'd raised Bret to think for himself, and sadness, that his 'little boy' was now a young man, willing to take on problems by himself. How long before Bart arrived at the same crossroads? Things were changing too fast to keep track of, and he wasn't sure he liked the changes.

XXXXXXXX

"You still wanna go swimmin'?" Bret asked when he picked Mary Alice up at three o'clock.

"Long as we're alone," she answered shyly.

"What're you gonna wear?" Bret was curious. He hadn't seen a girl in the water since . . . . well, since he was almost too little to remember. It was easy for a boy – just take off your boots and shirt and jump in. Those that were VERY daring might even take off their jeans, if there was nobody around. But a girl – well, what was a girl gonna do?

Bret took them back to the river and, as he'd expected, the spot he went to was deserted. "I - I gotta take my shirt off," Bret explained, and did his best not to blush when he said it.

"I know," Mary Alice answered. "Look that way – " she pointed away from her, "so I can get undressed, too."

"Undressed?" Bret almost choked the word out. He'd never seen a girl, well – you know – in her 'underthings.' He didn't know what to expect, but he did as told and turned around. He unbuttoned his shirt and removed it, hanging it on a tree branch. Then his boots and socks. And as he set them down next to the tree branch he saw something run past him and into the water so fast he wasn't even sure it was human, much less Mary Alice. Then he turned to where the girl had been standing and saw the neatly folded pile of clothes she'd left. He saw her dress, and petticoats, and wondered just what she had on. Or off, as the case may be.

"You comin' in or you just gonna stand there and stare at my clothes?" the girl questioned.

"I'm . . . I'm comin'!" Bret yelled, and ran for the river. His questions were answered when he swam close to her and discovered her clad in nothing more than pantalets and a chemise. She was almost – gasp – naked!

"Now you know why I only swim when no one's around," she told him, as she got even closer.

Bret had to remind himself to breathe. "You're – you're practically – "

"Uh, huh," she said, and swam next to him. "I won't bite you."

Considering the proximity of an almost naked woman – though not much more than a girl, to Bret she was 'almost' a woman – his heart was racing. It was the most exciting and frightening thing that had ever happened to him up to that point in his life. Did he have the strong heart needed to actually reach out and touch her? He didn't get the chance to make up his mind when she wrapped her arms around his neck. "What are you waitin' for?"

That was a good question and one that he was asking himself. Taking a leap of faith, he put his arms around her and pulled her towards him. He closed his eyes and found her lips, and it was exactly where he was supposed to be. He couldn't imagine anything better than this. Unexpectedly, something else was added to the mix, and he felt sure he'd died and gone to heaven. "Oh!" she gasped, and felt him shudder against her. "Are you alright?"

"Mmmhmm," he answered, and kissed her again. Suddenly she pulled back from him and, laughing, she unwrapped her arms and swam away. He wasn't quite sure what had happened, but he returned the laugh and swam after her. Whatever it had been, it was wonderful. "Wait!" he yelled, "Wait for me!" And he chased her across the river and pulled himself out on the far bank, laughing until he ran out of breath. Mary Alice swam back the other way and sprang out of the water, running for all she was worth until she reached her pile of clothes and collapsed on top of them. It was such a glorious feeling; he'd never been this happy in his whole life. Was this, could this be, love?


	8. Amen

Chapter 8 – Amen

Beau looked at his cousin as if Bart had two heads. It wasn't the first time Beau stared at him that way, and it was far from the last. "How'd you get yerself into that one?" Beau questioned.

"It's the only way Cora Stampers'll talk to me," Bart mumbled.

"An you want me to go with you?"

"Well, yeah!"

"An what are you gonna do for me if I do?"

Bart gave that some thought. What could he promise his cousin to entice him into attending the dance on Friday with Bart? The youngest Maverick was desperate; he just couldn't go there alone. There had to be something that Beau wanted. And then it came to him. "I guarantee you I'll never be late for school again."

"An what happens if you are?"

Bart had a bridle that he'd won at a Fourth of July race last year that Beau wanted desperately. "I'll give ya the bridle I won last year."

"For real?"

"I swear. For real."

"All right, I'll go with ya. But I'm leavin' to play poker as soon as you talk to her. Deal?"

Bart nodded and they shook on it. "Deal."

XXXXXXXX

It was late afternoon before Bret took Mary Alice back to her house. She'd fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder and he drove carefully to make sure that he didn't jostle her awake. He wanted the time to think, anyway. He had feelings that he'd never had before; intense feelings that left him confused and anxious. How could he find out what those feelings were? He needed to talk to somebody. Certainly not Pappy; even though he and his father were close, Pappy was not the right person. Lily Mae? She'd give him a different perspective on it, that's for sure. No, it had to be Uncle Ben. He needed a man's view, and ideas, and advice.

"Mary Alice, wake up. You're home."

"Hmmm? Oh, sorry. I fell asleep."

"Yes, ma'am, you did. But we're here now."

"Can you stay for a while?"

"No, not tonight. Got somethin' to do before I go into Little Bend. There's somethin' I need to ask ya, though."

She sat up straight. "What's that?"

"There's a dance Friday night at Miller's barn in town. Would you go with me? I can get the buggy again."

A rather large smile spread across her face. "You know how to dance?"

"Some," he told her. "Would you go?"

She nodded her head, and her smile got bigger. "Bret Maverick, I would love to go with you."

"I can be here at six o'clock. Is that too early? The dance starts at seven."

"Six o'clock is fine. I'll be ready."

"Mary Alice?"

"Yes?"

"I had a really great time today."

"Me, too." Bret held the reins in his left hand and placed his right hand behind her head. Gently he pulled her close and kissed her. Then he wrapped the reins around the whip and got down, going over to her side and helping her out of the buggy.

"Six o'clock Friday, okay?" He walked her to her door and opened it.

"I'll be ready."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Bret."

Rather than waste timing going home and saddling his horse, Bret drove straight to Uncle Ben's house. He found his uncle sitting on the porch smoking and pulled the buggy up out front. Ben looked surprised to see him. "You didn't come to get me, did ya?" Ben asked.

"No, sir, but I did come to talk to ya. Have ya got some time?"

"Sure, son. Come on, sit down an join me. Want a cigar?"

Bret laughed. "Long as you don't tell Pappy."

Ben shook his head. "Too late. He already knows. I imagine you boys all do, don't ya? Smoke, I mean."

"Sometimes."

"Well, you didn't come all this way just to talk about cigars. So what did you wanna talk about?"

"Uh, well . . . . . Uncle Ben, how do you know if you love somebody?"

Ben's first impulse was to laugh, but when he saw the serious look on Bret's face, he caught himself. "That's a hard question to answer, boy. You askin' for yerself?"

The young man nodded. "I just . . . . I just need to know."

"Why come to me? Why not ask your Pa about this?"

Bret chuckled, a sad sound for one so young. "This is your brother and my father we're talkin' about. You can't be serious."

Ben laughed outright at that while he re-lit Bret's cigar. "Yeah, what was I thinkin'? Sorry. I'm not sure I can give you an answer, Bret. At least not one that makes any kind a sense."

"Try, please?"

"Alright. If ya think about her all the time, and you wanna see her, and spend time with her, and nothin' else matters. And gettin' to kiss her makes ya crazy, and ya wanna do that more than anything in the world. There's lots of other things, too. Little, silly stuff. Like repeatin' her name over and over in yer head. An dreamin' about her. An – "

"I got it, I got it. Stuff like that, huh?"

"Yep. Little young for that, ain't ya?"

A confused shake of the head. "I don't know."

"You can be all wrapped up in a girl and not be in love with her."

"You can?"

"Yes, sir. Sometimes it's worse when you're crazy about 'em, but ya don't love 'em."

"Whatta ya do then?"

"That's when ya gotta know when it's time to leave, boy. There's always a time to leave, unless yer gonna marry 'em. And ya can't do that too many times."

"Can't ya just . . . . . . love 'em and not marry 'em?"

Ben shook his head and laughed. "Nope, not if it's a 'respectable' woman ya fell in with. A saloon girl, maybe. But not somebody like Isabelle, or Abigail, or . . . . . . Mary Alice. You are askin' about her, ain't ya?"

Bret stared down at the floor. "Yeah. I guess."

"Then ya can't have it both ways, boy. Ya can't love no decent woman an expect her to . . . . without marriage. And you know how well Mavericks mix with marriage."

"But, Uncle Ben, you an Pappy both - "

"Yeah, we did. An we lost 'em, both. And we ain't done it again, neither one of us. An we ain't about to. So if ya decide ya love her – "

"I better be darn well sure."

"Amen."


	9. The Dance

Chapter 9 – The Dance

Come Friday night the Maverick house was a very busy place. Beauregard and Bentley had decided to ride to Claytonville to play poker. Claytonville was the next town over and was a nice change of pace; with the barn dance in Little Bend, there wouldn't be much poker action on Friday night.

Bart was unhappily trying to get ready to meet and talk to Cora Stampers. He debated going in the same clothes he'd been wearing down at the river all day, but decided getting cleaned up wasn't such a bad idea, just in case. In case of what he wasn't sure, but it would prove beneficial to him that he did.

Bret was, of course, doing his darndest to look presentable for Mary Alice. He still hadn't figured out if this was love, infatuation or just teenage male urges, and for right now he didn't care. It was a chance to see the girl he was enamored of, and hold her close, and possibly sneak in a few kisses here and there. Once again he wore his best clothes, jeans and a new shirt he'd splurged some of his poker money on. He'd also bought a small box of peppermints for Mary Alice; it was her favorite candy and once he'd seen the box he knew he had to get it. He was pleased that he could afford to give her little gifts, and was determined to keep presenting them.

Neither brother knew what the other one was doing; there might have been more good-natured harassing if they had. "Goin' to play poker in Claytonville with Pappy and Uncle Ben?" Bret asked, seeing Bart cleaned up.

"Nope," Bart answered.

"Little Bend?"

"Yep." Bart wasn't about to tell Bret where he was going and why. It was, after all, embarrassing. "You goin' to Little Bend, too?"

"Yeah. I'm leavin' now."

"See ya later."

"Yep." Bret walked out to the barn, where he hitched his horse to the buggy and left for Mary Alice's house. About twenty minutes later Bart said good-bye to Pappy and saddled his horse for the trip to Beau's house. His cousin was still getting dressed for the night and Bart had a brief talk with Lily Mae.

"I took your advice, Lily Mae. I'm goin' to see Cora Stampers tonight."

"About that problem we talked about?"

"Yes'm. I figure it'll be settled tonight."

"She's just gonna quit likin' ya, huh?" Lily Mae questioned with a twinkle in her eye.

"Sure," Bart answered. "Why wouldn't she?"

"I got supper ready. You two want some?"

"Sure do, Lily Mae," Beau answered as he came downstairs.

"Not much," Bart responded. "I'm not real hungry."

"You worried?" Beau asked.

"About this meetin'? Naw, what have I got to be worried about? I'm just gonna tell her to quit likin' me so Jamie'll be friends. Easy."

"Then why'd ya need me ta go with ya?"

"I didn't need ya to go with me. I wanted ya to go with me."

"Don't make any difference," Lily Mae interjected. "You're both goin'."

"Only till he talks to her," Beau stated.

"You just gonna walk off an leave your cousin there alone?"

"Yep," came the reply. Lily Mae made a face. "Mr. Beau, your Pa and me raised you better than that."

"It's alright, Lily, that's all he's gotta stay. Just till I talk to her. Then we can both go play poker."

Lily Mae sighed. If only it was going to be that easy. "You just let me know how it all turns out, will ya, Mr. B?"

Bart nodded and grabbed Beau's arm. "You ready to go?"

A nod, a smile at Lily Mae, and they were gone. Lily shook her head. "Oh, Mr. B, I don't think ya know what you've gotten into."

XXXXXXXX

Mary Alice was beautiful. Her long copper hair had been pulled into a ponytail and braided, then wound around her head, and she had flowers strategically placed in the braids. She wore a pale blue dress that made her eyes shine and carried her mother's white shawl. "You look . . . . . . incredible," Bret told her, then handed her the fancy box of peppermints. "These are for you. I know they're your favorites."

Mary Alice laughed, and it was like music to the young man. "Bret Maverick, you're gonna spoil me!" she giggled, and kissed him on the cheek.

"Where's yer pa?"

"Went into town to drink and play poker," she answered. "He won't stumble home till the mornin'."

Bret leaned over and kissed her, softly. "You're beautiful." He offered her his arm. "Let's go, then."

In just a few short minutes they were on their way into town. It was a delightful summer evening, and Bret was excited and nervous. He hadn't been to a barn dance since Momma . . . . well, since Momma was gone, and he'd never taken a girl to one. And, to top it off, the prettiest girl in town. At least in his opinion.

He gave her his arm again as they walked into the Miller barn. There was a band of sorts playing a square dance – a fiddle player, a bass player, and a man that alternated between banjo and guitar. There must have been twenty or more people there, mostly couples, of all ages. A table was set up at one end of the barn with punch and some pastries from the brand new bakery in town, and Bret walked Mary Alice over to stand by the north wall. Bret's friend Simon Petry stood talking to another of their classmates. Simon couldn't take his eyes off Mary Alice.

"You've got the prettiest girl in the place!' Simon told him.

Bret beamed with pride. "Don't I know it." Mary Alice blushed. The square dance finished and the band started to play a waltz. "Miss Tompkins, may I have this dance?"

Mary Alice smiled and said, "Certainly, Mr. Maverick," and they proceeded to the center of the barn. Just as they spun away from the door, Bart and Beau came in with a group of several other people. Bret had his back turned and didn't see his brother and cousin. Mary Alice only had eyes for Bret.

"Darn, Beau, get over here where Bret can't see us!" Bart tugged furiously on his cousin's arm and managed to drag him behind another couple before they could be spotted. "What's he doin' here?"

"Why wouldn't he be here?" Beau responded. "He's got a girl and he knows how to dance. Where else would he be? You gonna hide from him all night?"

"I ain't gonna be here all night," Bart told his cousin firmly. "Look, there's Jamie and his sister. I gotta talk to her, Beau."

"Wait till the dance is over, Bart. Bret'll probably take Mary Alice to get punch. That's yer chance."

Bart had little or no patience, but he knew Beau had a point. Sure enough, when the song ended, Bret held onto the girl's hand and led her back to the punch bowl. Bart didn't hesitate. He ran over to Cora, grabbed her hand and dragged her outside.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"We gotta talk."

"Not until you ask me proper." Cora turned around and started back towards the door.

Bart ran hastily in front of her. "Cora Stampers, could we have a talk, please?"

She stopped in her tracks. "That's better. Yes, Bart, we can talk. Around back, where it will be private." Now it was Cora's turn, and she grabbed Bart's hand and led him around to the backside of the barn. He went with her, reluctantly. He had to put an end to this in a hurry.


	10. First Kiss

Chapter 10 – First Kiss

It was almost dark, and Bart could barely see Cora in what dim light remained. He'd gotten a good look at her when they were still inside, and she was a pretty thing, he had to admit that. Still, she was a girl and was causing him considerable discomfort when he was around her brother. "Why did you want to talk to me, Bart?"

Even though he was a year younger than Cora and had just started to sprout up, he was still half a head taller than her. He looked down at her, at that soft, curly hair, and the almost hypnotic gray eyes, and for a moment couldn't remember what he'd wanted to speak to her about. Then the fog in his head began to clear and it came rushing back to him – easing of the tension between him and her brother, and potential friendship with Jamie Stampers was at stake. "Uh, your brother, Jamie."

He'd taken a step back from her when they first arrived at the back side of the barn, but somehow she'd managed to get closer to him. Dang it, she smelled good. How did girls manage that? Why hadn't he ever noticed it before? And why was she standing right in front of him?

He hadn't paid any attention to her voice when they were in school, why did it remind him of pure honey right now? "What about my brother?"

Jamie. What about Jamie. Oh, right. "Uh, he says we can't be friends . . . . . because, uh . . . . . well, because you . . . . . uh, why are you standin' so close to me?"

"Am I?" Cora asked, but she didn't back up any. As a matter of fact, as he was looking down at her, fingers brushed the back of his hand, and he felt like somebody had just shot him.

"What . . . . what are you doin'?" he stammered as she seemed to get ever closer.

"Don't you like me bein' close to you?"

How was he supposed to answer that? What was this strange hold she seemed to have exerted over him? He tried to say something but couldn't get any words to come out. He told his legs to move back but they didn't budge. Every inch of his body felt like someone had just lit him on fire. What the heck was happening to him?

He saw her raise her right hand and for an instant he thought she was going to hit him. Instead, she placed her hand on his shoulder and slowly inched her way up to the back of his neck. The instant she touched skin his knees tried to buckle on him, and the only thing that kept him upright was the barn wall behind him. Wherever her fingers touched burned and sizzled, inflicting pain and pleasure at the same time. He felt a slight pressure on his neck and obediently lowered his head, as if in some sort of trance. She craned her neck until her face was right in front of his, and all he could see were those soft, perfect lips, and seconds later he felt a sensation the likes of which he'd never begun to imagine. Her mouth pressed against his, and after a moment's hesitation his own mouth responded.

His whole body trembled. Was this – could this be – yes, this must be a kiss, and a wave of panic, followed by another of pure pleasure, washed completely over him. Heaven and hell in one delightful act. His mind said _'pull back, run away, flee',_ and his body responded with a resounding _'NO. Don't move!'_

And then, as quickly as it started, it was over, and he gasped for breath as Cora pulled away from him. He gaped at her in the darkness, trying to make sense of what just happened, but there was no sense to be had.

"What . . . what . . . . was that for?" finally came out of his mouth, and even in the darkness he could see her smile. She took a step back, and instinctively he followed her. Without thinking at all he reached a hand out and grasped her arm, sending a jolt of electricity through his body. He bent his head down slightly and reciprocated, with no thought of his own for what he was doing; only knowing he had to experience that feeling, whatever it was, again, right now.

This time when they separated, Cora was just as affected as Bart. She'd kissed boys before; he wasn't her first. But none had left her feeling what this one did. It was more than obvious to her that he was something special – a natural at it, if there was such a thing. "Oh, my," was as much as she could manage.

The boy and girl stood there staring at each other in the dark. Their lives had just changed forever, without either of them knowing exactly how or why.

XXXXXXXX

Beau was not as adept at avoiding Bret as Bart was. When Bret and Mary Alice returned to their spot on the north wall, Bret caught a glimpse of his cousin and turned to the girl. "Stay here with Simon for a minute. I have to do somethin'." He scooted rapidly over to his cousin before Beau had a chance to disappear, and grabbed him by the arm. "What's goin' on, Beau?"

"Nothin'," Beau answered suspiciously, and Bret frowned at him. "You here by yourself?"

"Uh, no . . . yes, just stopped in to see what all the excitement was about."

"You know, for a Maverick, you're a terrible liar. Where is he?"

"Who?" Beau tried playing innocent one more time.

"Bart."

"I don't know."

"Beau. Really, that's the best you can do? Where's my brother?"

Beau gave up. Bret was right, he was a bad liar. It was a skill that didn't come naturally to him, and it showed. "Outside."

"Who's with him? Fred?"

Cousin Beau shook his head. "No."

"He's alone? What's he doin' out there?"

"He's . . . . he's talkin' to Cora Stampers."

"Talkin', huh? Is that what its bein' called these days?"

"He is," Beau protested. "She likes him, and he wants it to stop. And she'd only talk to him if he met her here."

"She likes him, huh?" Bret asked. It took him a minute to remember what Cora looked like. "Oh, the curly-headed blonde? The one with . . . . never mind. Outside? Come on," and Bret pulled Beau along with him, back out the open barn door. He looked around in the dark, but there was no sign of his brother. "I thought you said he was outside?" Bret asked, quite suspicious now himself.

"He is. He was. He came out here with Cora, I swear."

"Alright, go on," Bret answered, and turned loose of his cousin, who ran for his horse and his life. Bret walked down the side of the barn and, just before he turned the corner to the back side, heard his brother's voice.

"What . . . what . . . . was that for?" was followed by dead quiet. Bret crept just a little farther and could see the outline of two people in the darkness. He assumed them to be his brother and Cora Stampers. And they definitely weren't doing any talking. Bret suppressed a snicker and ducked back around the side of the barn.

Bart, that little stinker. Thirteen years old and kissing an older girl! Well, that was certainly something to remember for the next time his brother gave him a bad time about Mary Alice. He took great care to return the way he'd come, doing his best to stay as quiet as possible. Back into the barn and over to Mary Alice, who was still standing next to Simon. "All done?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered coyly, not revealing where he'd gone or what he'd seen. "I certainly am."


	11. Wolves in the Moonlight

Chapter 11 – Wolves in the Moonlight

There was no more stuttering or stammering; something monumental had happened, even if he was too stunned and confused to understand exactly what it was. "Why did you do that?"

"Because I wanted to. All school year I wanted to. And you wanted me to."

"I wanted you to? What gave you that idea?"

"You did. I saw the way you looked at me, the way you smiled at me. I saw you watch me. Was I wrong?"

That question took no time at all to answer. "I guess not. Where'd you learn to do that?"

"What, kiss? You're not the first boy I kissed, Bart Maverick. But you might be the last. Where'd you learn to do that?"

"What? Me? I didn't learn to do nothin'. Ain't never kissed a girl before."

"You mean I'm the first? Go on, I don't believe you. Not kissin' like that. You been kissin' girls behind the barn before, ain't ya?"

Bart shook his head. "Never." Although that was certainly liable to change, he thought. It was . . . . it was enjoyable. Pleasurable. Something that he never expected. He tried to see Cora's face in the dark and he couldn't. He reached out with his right hand and found her cheek. It was soft and warm, and he'd never felt anything quite so tender before. He shook his head, trying to clear it. What kind of a spell had this girl cast on him? And how did he escape it? Did he want to escape it? He heard a horse whinny and he was jolted back to the present.

Beau! He'd left his cousin inside to fend for himself. "I gotta go," tumbled out, and he turned and ran back to the front of the barn, leaving Cora standing there. She shivered in the night air, even though it wasn't cold. Wait until she told Susie Ames about Bart Maverick!

Once inside he searched frantically for his cousin but didn't see him. Bret and Mary Alice were back out on the dance floor, in the midst of another waltz, but there was no sign of Beau. Bret looked up just then and exchanged glances with Bart, and the younger brother knew he'd been caught. He ran back outside and straight to his horse, jumping on and galloping off into the night. Towards the river he went, all thoughts of playing poker having fled his consciousness, and he rode hard and fast until he arrived at their regular swimming spot. He hopped down and dropped the reins, desperately needing to see if he looked any different. The full moon gave off enough light to see by. He got down on his hands and knees and stared at his reflection in the water, and was startled to see that nothing had changed.

How could that be? He couldn't look like the old Bart Maverick, he felt so very different than he had just an hour ago. He looked exactly the same, though, even if he felt entirely different. At least that was a load off his mind. He'd been absolutely convinced that the difference would be readily discernable, and everyone would know his secret. He breathed easier and sat down on the ground. Now what?

Did this happen to everyone, this feeling that he'd turned from a boy into a man, all in one fell swoop? It must, surely, he couldn't be the only one that felt this way. How could one girl, one little kiss, alter your life so completely? And were all the old feelings, ideas, and attitudes gone forever?

Startled, he realized he'd gone outside with Cora to convince her to leave him alone, to 'unlike' him, as the case may be. That thought had fled his mind like a rabbit runs from a coyote, and he wondered for just a moment why it had been so important. Then he remembered Jamie, and the fact that Fred's friend was going to remain just that, Fred's friend, and not become Bart's newest friend. How could he explain that to Jamie, to Fred? Unconsciously he shrugged his shoulders, absolutely certain which one he would pick if the choice lay between Jamie and Cora. He'd always thought girls were useless, a pain put on the earth to annoy the life out of boys and men, and nothing more.

Tonight his eyes had been opened for him, and he would never look at girls the same way again. He felt like he'd just won the biggest poker hand he'd ever played, but somehow he knew these previously unknown feelings would turn out to be even bigger than that. Without thinking he picked up a flat stone and threw it, and for the first time it skipped across the water and bounced one, two, three times before dropping out of sight. He'd never been able to do that before and he looked for another stone, just to prove that it was no fluke. The next stone bounced four times, and he marveled at the effect one little action could have. It was a lesson he'd remember all his life.

XXXXXXXX

When Cora Stampers returned to the barn dance she looked exactly like she had when she left it earlier in the evening, but she certainly felt different. She had no idea when she set out to kiss Bart Maverick that the attainment of that goal would affect her so much. She'd told Bart the truth; she'd kissed other boys. She didn't expect this particular kiss to be that different, and that's why she was so surprised when it was.

It was gentle, and tender, and so full of passion that it almost exploded on her lips. For goodness sake, the boy was even younger than she was. How was she supposed to know that he'd kiss like that? But now that he had, she wasn't content with two stolen kisses out behind the Miller barn. She wanted more. Much more.

She walked back into the barn and saw Bart's older brother Bret standing on the far wall, with Mary Alice Tompkins on one side of him and Simon Petry on the other. Simon saw her and motioned her over and she joined the small group and smiled. "You here by yourself, Cora?" Simon asked.

"No, I came with my brother," she told Simon. "He's around here somewhere. Have you seen Bret's brother?"

"Nope. Would you like to dance?"

"I'd love to, Simon." She had to do something to get Bart off her mind. So she danced with Simon, and once or twice she caught Bret's eye and smiled. The older brother was taller and good-looking, and she wondered if he kissed like his little brother did. If he did, Mary Alice was a very lucky girl.

Three hours later the band and everyone there was tired, and the participants began to drift off. It had been an altogether successful evening, and all those still in attendance were pleased and in good spirits. Jamie Stampers had gone home earlier, and Simon offered to walk Cora home. Bret escorted Mary Alice to the buggy and they started for her house. They were almost halfway there when Mary Alice spoke. "You've been awfully quiet for quite a while. Did I miss somethin'?"

"No, not really," Bret answered. "Bart and Beau were there earlier tonight."

"Oh, I didn't see them. Must be kind of borin' for boys there by themselves."

"I don't think Bart was bored."

"Why do you say that?" Mary Alice asked curiously.

"Just a hunch," Bret told her. He started to turn down the road to the Tompkins house and she put a hand on his arm.

"Don't go home. Not just yet."

"Alright," he nodded, and headed the buggy towards the far end of the river. They stopped under a Red Ash tree and Bret picked up the blanket he'd brought and helped Mary Alice down. Once the blanket was spread they sat and watched the river for a while. "Did somethin' happen tonight?"

"No," he answered. "Why'd you ask that?"

"Because you've been distracted most of the night. Did I say somethin' wrong?"

"No, not a thing. There's been somethin' on my mind, that's all. I'm sorry." He turned his head out towards the water and the girl sighed and laid her head on his shoulder. He readjusted and put his arm around her; she was shivering. "Where's your shawl?"

"Right here," and she handed it to him. He wrapped the shawl around her and pulled her close.

"Think I can do somethin' about that shivering?" Before she could offer an answer he kissed her ear, then her throat, and finally her lips. She turned to him and wrapped her hands in his hair, and soon they were lying on the blanket and kissing. Her lips tasted of punch and honey, and it took only a few minutes for the kissing to become insistent, and urgent, and she finally broke away from him.

"We . . . . we can't," she told him, and sat up.

He sat up too, and nodded. "I know. I'm sorry. I should take you home now."

"Yes," she agreed, "You should."

He stood and pulled her up with him, then kissed her gently. Without saying anything else he walked her back to the buggy and helped her into it. On the ride back to her house he told her again, "I'm sorry, Mary Alice. That won't happen again." He thought about what Ben had told him when he asked, "Can't ya just love 'em and not marry 'em?"

"Nope, not if it's a 'respectable' woman ya fell in with. Ya can't have it both ways, boy. Ya can't love no decent woman an expect her to . . . . without marriage."

No matter how badly he wanted to do more than just kiss and hold Mary Alice, he couldn't . . . . . unless he was willing to . . . . . . . . . . . . .


	12. Confession is Good for the Soul

Chapter 12 – Confession is Good for the Soul

Bret walked into the house and found the lights out and his brother asleep. Or so he thought. Bart was as awake as Bret but played possum so he didn't have to do any explaining. Once his brother had gotten undressed and gone to bed, Bart opened his eyes and went back to laying in the dark and wondering why these things happened to him. As he got older he would learn how to sleep without the worry, but for now it was a new concept. His life had been so much simpler before last night.

Bret had problems of his own to worry about, and even though he and Bart had talked about one of them moving into another room, so far neither had done so. He turned his back to his brother and faced the wall, but still felt better knowing he wasn't alone. He, too, lay in bed and thought about everything that had happened tonight, both at the dance and after, and wondered just what his feelings were for Mary Alice. When he couldn't decide how he felt about her, he started to worry about Bart. How had Cora Stamper's actions affected his thirteen-year-old brother? At least he didn't have to worry about 'first kisses' anymore.

Finally, closer to morning than night, both boys fell asleep. Bret slept soundly but Bart tossed and turned, unable to convince himself there was nothing to be concerned about. He dreamt the rest of the night; some of the dreams were reasonable, some bizarre, a habit he would continue the rest of his life. Neither of them woke when Beauregard got home from Claytonville, and he was just as glad as could be for that. Pappy returned to the Maverick homestead smelling more like Jenny McClaine than Beau Maverick. Not surprising, considering how they'd occupied the majority of their evening together.

He stopped in the doorway to the boys' room for just a moment before heading off to his own bed and watched the two of them sleep. It seemed like just yesterday that they'd been small enough to both fit in his lap at the same time. Now Bret was almost as tall as he was and Bart gave every indication that he would shoot up taller, too. _'Please let 'em stay boys one more summer,'_ he begged silently, not realizing that he was asking for something already out of reach.

Bret woke first, long after mid-day, and jumped out of bed in a hurry to start his chores. "Bart, hey Bart," he called to his younger brother as he dressed.

Bart stirred and finally asked sleepily, "Yeah?"

"Get up, we've got work to do."

"What time is it?"

"Late. We slept way too long."

Something came out of his brother that sounded like a moan, but Bret was too busy with his boots to pay much attention. When he was ready to leave the room he added, "Come on, now. I ain't doin' your chores for ya today, lover boy."

Instantly Bart was awake. "What did you call me?"

"I called ya Bart, whatta ya think I called ya?"

Maverick the younger knew what he'd heard, even if Bret wouldn't admit to saying it. He pushed the covers away and swung his legs out over the edge of the bed, blinking and trying to clear the haze left by last night's adventure from his brain. He hurriedly slipped on jeans, shirt and boots and ran to catch up with his brother.

"Your turn to milk the cow, and hurry up," Bret pointed out as he fed the chickens and gathered up the eggs. Setting those aside carefully he fed the horses while Bart dawdled over the cow. "Come on," he prodded, "I'm starvin'."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," came the rejoinder from his brother, who picked up half of the eggs and followed Bret back into the house.

"Eggs is gonna have to do this mornin'," Bret announced as he fired up the stove.

"Fine," Bart agreed. "You makin' coffee?"

"Nope, you can do that. I've showed ya how often enough."

"Sure," came the standard answer. Bart hadn't said anything else about Bret's earlier remark, and both boys went about their tasks with no further discussion. The silence continued as they ate, and they'd progressed to cleaning up after themselves before either one spoke again.

"Do any good at poker last night?" Bret asked.

"Didn't play poker," his brother answered.

"What'd ya do instead?"

Bart was attempting to be as evasive as possible. "Went down to the river. Finally got the hang of skippin' stones." They'd returned to their room to straighten things up.

"That's an accomplishment. Anything else?"

Bart pulled the covers up on his bed and sat down on it. "Ask yer questions."

Bret did the same and asked innocently, "What questions?"

"The one's yer dyin' to ask."

"You an Cora Stampers?"

Bart nodded. "We was just supposed to talk."

"About what?"

"Her not likin' me anymore."

"I'm missin' somethin' here. Gimme the whole story."

And that's just what Bart proceeded to do, not leaving out anything. When he was done he looked at his older brother. "Pretty dumb, huh?"

Bret shook his head. "Not dumb at all. She set you up and played ya like a fiddle, though."

"Yeah. Whatta I do now?"

"Was that yer first kiss?"

Bart sat on his bed and debated Bret's question. For just a minute he considered lying about it; he didn't want his brother to think him a 'baby.' His desire for honest, real advice won out eventually, and very quietly came a single word. "Yeah."

"Did ya like it?"

There was no hesitation in the next answer, and it was said in a happier tone of voice. "Yeah. Was I supposed to?"

Bret laughed and was quick to explain. "Yeah, Bart, you were supposed to. Did Cora say anything?"

"She said, _'Oh, my.'_ Was that good?"

Bret laughed again. "That was good, Brother Bart. Do you still want her to stop likin' ya?"

A shake of the head. "Nope. Are they all like that? Girls, I mean. All soft an warm an . . . just girls?"

"So far," Bret answered. "My experience is limited. You gonna see her again?"

"How do I do that? I mean, I ain't gonna be friends with her brother, now."

"You'll think of a way. You sayin' anything to Pappy?"

"No, sir, not a word. An I'm gonna tell Cousin Beau to keep his mouth shut an not tell his Pa neither."

Bret finally stood up. "You in the mood for a swim?"

"Sure. I'll show you my stone skippin'."

"Let's go. Maybe you can catch Cousin Beau there."

Bart nodded and grinned. "Before he tells everybody he knows."

Bret grinned back. "Good idea."


	13. Secrets and Lies

Chapter 13 – Secrets and Lies

"Not even Pa?" Beau couldn't believe what he'd just been told. All this delicious knowledge about his cousin and he couldn't share it with anyone?

"Especially not Uncle Ben," Bart countered with.

"But – if I – what – "

"Nobody," Bart insisted. "You can't even tell yourself."

"What?"

"No one. Nobody. None. Nada. I can't say it any plainer."

Beau still looked confused. Bret tried to help. "Cousin Beau, if you tell your Pa, he'll tell Pappy. Bart doesn't want Pappy to know, not until he's ready to tell him. Understand now?"

"I guess. You're not gonna tell Jamie?"

Bart sighed. "No, I'm not gonna tell Jamie. He can figure it out for himself."

The three boys were sitting under one of the trees at the river's edge. The day was almost over and they'd done nothing more than swim all afternoon. When they were younger and smaller the river had seemed wild and free; now it was more sedate and comforting. Bart picked up a flat stone, just like he had last night, and skipped it across the water. It bounced four times before disappearing.

"Hey, I thought you couldn't do that," Beau reminded his cousin.

"I couldn't," came Bart's answer.

"Then when . . . . . "

"Last night."

"Wow. Anything else different?"

"Nope. Nothin' I know of."

"I'm goin' in one more time," Bret announced, and in an instant he was back in the river.

Beau scooted closer to Bart. "What was it like?" he whispered.

"What, kissin' a girl?"

"Shhhh, not so loud."

"Beau, there ain't nobody here but you, me an Bret. Who's gonna hear us?"

"Then tell me. What was it like?"

"It was . . . . . well, it was like nothin' else ever happened to me. It was great . . . an it was terrible."

"What does that mean?"

Bart shook his head. "I don't know how to explain it. You just gotta find a girl an try it."

"How am I gonna do that? Especially with no school?"

"Don't you know somebody's got a sister?"

"Yeah – Jamie Stampers."

"Oh no – hands off."

"What? You gonna see her again? You wanna see her again?"

"Well – yeah," Bart answered. "I just gotta figure a way."

Beau didn't have to think about it too long. "Just get on your horse and go over there. Stamper's place is just a couple miles from here. Go ask her to ride with ya."

"Hey – there's an idea. Thanks."

Beau tried skipping a stone across the river, but it only bounced twice. "Man, I gotta find a girl to kiss."

XXXXXXXX

Two nights later Bart rode into Little Bend with Bret and Pappy to play poker. Beauregard had been in an unusually good mood since coming back from Claytonville and Bart actually considered talking to him about what happened at the barn dance but changed his mind at the last minute. They spoke about poker on the way into town and split up when they got to the LB Bar, all three getting into different games. The group of men that Bart regularly played with was there, and everything settled down into a familiar pattern.

Until Ray Ames, the bartender who spent almost thirty years working at the Little Bend Bar, brought Pappy a cup of coffee. Ray said something to Beauregard and smiled, and in just a few minutes Pappy got up from his poker game and followed Ray to the bar to continue the conversation. He spent almost fifteen minutes with the bartender and kept glancing over at his youngest son during the entire talk. Finally Pappy gave a shake of his head and went back to his game, stealing one last glance at Bart before he did so.

Nothing else unusual happened until it was time to call it a night and go home. Bret's game broke up first; within a few minutes Pappy's and then Bart's followed suit. Bart did a quick count of his money while putting it in his wallet. He'd won more than sixty dollars tonight; from the look on Bret's face, he too had a good night. Pappy looked resolute, and Bart wondered if he'd lost money.

Bret and Beauregard were waiting for him outside after Bart left his table. They'd been talking quietly but stopped as Bart walked out through the batwing doors. "I got somethin' to do at home," Bret announced. "I'll see ya both later." He mounted his horse and headed in the direction of the Maverick spread.

Beauregard rested his hand on Bart's shoulder. "Looks like it's just you an me, boy. How does breakfast sound?"

"Sure, Pappy. You buyin'?"

"I can do that." They headed three doors down the street, to the small café that stayed open to accommodate the drinkers and poker players. Pappy and his youngest son talked about the ranch; how the animals were faring, whether they needed a new water pump for the livestock troughs, when the roan mare was going to deliver her foal. They discussed their respective poker games and the men they'd played against. It never ceased to amaze Beauregard that Bart had no trouble holding his own against most of the local poker players. "You're better than I was at your age," Pappy told him.

It was an easy meal, casual and comfortable; almost too easy. Bart had the feeling there was something on his father's mind, and they'd already started on the road back to the ranch before he found out what it was.

"Ray had some interestin' news to tell me. Somethin' I was surprised to hear from him and not you. About Lucas Stampers daughter Cora – and my youngest son."


	14. An Explosion of Fact

Chapter 14 – An Explosion of Fact

' _What – how did Ray find out?'_ Bart's mind raced. Then it came to him, slowly, and he remembered – Ray's daughter Susie was Cora's best friend. Trust a girl not to be able to keep quiet about something that was - well, personal.

"Nothin' to say, Bart?"

"Uh – "

Beauregard didn't make another sound, waiting to hear a response from his son. Bart was panic stricken, scared to death, and relieved, all at the same time. Pappy hadn't exploded with rage or any other reaction that Bart might have normally expected. How much of that was due to his father's good mood from the trip to Claytonville he had no idea, but he was still alive and breathing. Pappy and he were riding peacefully towards home, and his father was still waiting for an answer to his question. Finally, Bart gave the only answer he could think of.

"No, sir, nothin' to say."

"Is it true?"

Pappy's calm demeanor had convinced Bart to determine just how much his father actually knew before committing himself to an answer of any kind. He made a bold move, one befitting a Maverick, and forced Pappy into showing his cards first. "What did Ray tell you?"

Beauregard had to chuckle, even though it was the last thing he should do. Bart was certainly acting like his son, rather than the frightened young boy that he'd somewhat expected. Beau did his best to remain calm and reasonable, waiting to see if Bart had learned how to handle adversity or, at least, pressure. "That you and the young lady in question were at the barn dance kissing."

Bart continued to be evasive but entirely honest with his answers. "Sort of."

"Was does that mean, sort of?"

"We went outside to talk, that's all."

"Kissin' and talkin' ain't the same thing, boy."

Bart was emboldened by his father's lack of agitation. "We was just supposed to talk. She kissed me."

"You kiss her back?"

"Yeah."

"What else?"

"Nothin', Pappy, I swear. Two kisses, that's all."

"Then what?"

The boy was glad it was dark out, Pappy wouldn't see him blush. "I left."

"What does that mean, you left?" Beauregard almost chuckled again; Bart was certainly not making this easy.

"I got on my horse and came home."

"And where was the girl?"

"Still at the dance, I guess."

Beau stopped his horse, and Bart did the same. "Why didn't you tell me?"

It all came rushing out, in a flood of words. "I was goin' to, I swear, Pappy. I almost told ya on the way to town tonight, but I was . . . . . I changed my mind. You was in such a good mood, an I didn't wanna spoil it."

"You ever kissed a girl before?"

"No, Pappy. I swear."

Beauregard couldn't help it, he had to ask the question. "Are ya gonna do it again?"

Bart heard the tone in his father's voice and took a chance. "Yeah. I 'spose."

"You ain't fixin' ta do nothin' else, are ya?"

"Pappy!"

"Ya know what happens if ya do, don't ya?"

"Yeah," Bart stared at the ground. "Ya gotta marry 'em."

"Ya think yer a little young fer that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. You decide yer not, ya come talk to me first, alright?"

"Yes, sir."

They rode the rest of the way home in silence; Bart relieved that things had gone as well as they did, his father pleased that there didn't seem to be anything further on his son's mind, at least for now. He hoped that his oldest was thinking the same way.

XXXXXXXX

Bret had ridden towards home for a short distance, but when he got to the turnoff for the Tompkins house, he impulsively took it. He hadn't been able to get Mary Alice off his mind all day and wanted to see her, even though it was too late at night for that. He circled around the back way to her house and was surprised to find a light on inside her room. As quietly as he could, Bret dismounted and left his horse tied to a tree some distance away, and made the rest of the journey on foot. A window was open and he could hear what sounded like crying in the room. He peeked in and saw his girl, his Mary Alice, laying on the floor next to her bed sobbing.

"Pssst! Mary Alice! What's wrong?" His voice was barely louder than a whisper, but she heard him and looked up from her position on the ground. He had to blink more than once to make sure he was really seeing what was right in front of him – Mary Alice, with red eyes and tears running down her face, a bruise the size of a fist on her right cheek and a split lip with a thin line of blood trickling down her chin. She scrambled to her feet and ran to the window, still crying, and opened it all the way. Bret did his best to climb in and finally succeeded in pulling himself inside.

As soon as he straightened up she ran into his arms and continued crying against his chest. "What happened? Who did this to you?' he whispered. She gulped and shuddered and finally calmed down some, but didn't answer him.

Bret held her close and tried to comfort her, silently swearing that whoever did this would pay for it, and pay dearly. It took a few minutes but she finally gave him an answer, and it was just what he feared. "Pa did it."

He led her back over to her bed and sat down, pulling her down into his arms and on his lap as he did so. He rocked her and stroked her hair while she told him the story of the welt on her face. "Pa came home drunk. Nothin' unusual, but he was so late his supper was ruined a long time ago. He pulled me outta bed and told me to fix him somethin' else, and I tried, but nothin' made him happy. So he found one a his bottles and started drinkin' again. An I begged him to quit, and when he decided he'd heard enough he grabbed my arm, an I tried to pull away from him. An he hit me."

"Where is he now?" Bret asked, fully expecting to hear the answer he got.

"Passed out somewhere, I'm sure."

Now it made sense – Mary Alice's reluctance to tell him what had been bothering her for weeks. "This ain't the first time, is it?"

Her tears had stopped, but she was still gasping for air and trying to breathe. She shook her head. "No."

Bret stood up and pulled her to her feet with him. "Get dressed. Pack some things. I'm not leavin' you here."

Mary Alice stood there trembling, afraid to go and afraid to stay. "Bret, I can't. He's my – "

"I don't care what he is, Mary Alice. You're goin' with me. I'll not leave ya here to get beat on some more."

She studied him carefully, the determined tone in his voice and the look of pure hatred in his eyes, and nodded her head. "Alright, turn around so I can put on clothes."

The boy did as instructed, and in just a few minutes he heard her voice again, steadier this time. "I'm ready."

She wore jeans and a shirt and held a small bag in her hand. "My clothes and a hairbrush," she told him when his face assumed a questioning look.

"We'll come back for your things tomorrow. You're not livin' here anymore." She followed him to the window and he left the way he'd come in. Once he was outside, he took her bag and then helped her climb out of the house, to the ground where he stood.

"Come on, we'll ride double," taking her by the hand and leading her to his horse. He helped her up in the saddle and then mounted himself, sliding back behind the cantle. It was slower going than normal but eventually they made it to the Maverick Ranch. Beau and Bart's horses were still outside.

"Come on down here, Missy," Bret told her as he pushed himself off the side of his horse. She swung her right leg over the saddle and slid down into his arms. "I'll take care of the horses after I get you inside."

Bret opened the front door to find Pappy and Bart sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee. "What in the world – " Pappy started, then stopped abruptly when he saw the bright red welt and rapidly swelling lip on Mary Alice's face. "Ben?" he asked, and Bret nodded.

"She ain't livin' there with him." It wasn't a question, it was a statement of fact, and Beauregard nodded, in complete agreement. There was no reason in the world to hit a woman, and Beau had always impressed that upon his boys. The fact that Mary Alice was only fifteen changed nothing. He came up out of his seat and pulled the chair out for her.

"We got another room you can sleep in. Bart, go get the bed ready in the spare room. Honey, you want some coffee to warm you up? You look like you're near freezin' to death."

"No, thank you, Mr. Maverick."

"Beauregard, Mary Alice, call me Beauregard. Bret, you stay here with your girl, I'll go get the horses."

Bret nodded and sat down with 'his girl.' "You sure you don't want some coffee? Pappy's right, it'll warm you up."

"Alright," she finally said, after a pause. "Why'd you come over to my house, anyway?"

"Just a feelin'. I couldn't get you off my mind." He poured a fresh cup of coffee and set it on the table in front of her. "That's what you wouldn't tell me, isn't it?"

"I was too ashamed."

"Ashamed? Why? You don't deserve to be beat. Nobody does. Not like that."

"Pa made it seem like – he said that I should – you know, take care of him. Since Mama was gone."

"Take care of him? He's a grown man, he can . . . . . . . oh . . . . . . oh my God . . . . . . . you mean like – "

Mary Alice couldn't answer the unspoken question. She nodded, almost imperceptibly, and the tears slid down her face once more and dropped into her lap. Bret took her hand in his and kissed it. "Did he . . . . I mean did he try to . . . . . you know . . . . . because if he did . . . . . . "

"No, no, he just talked . . . like I should . . . . because he was my Pa . . . . . "

Bart walked back into the kitchen just in time to hear his brother declare, with as much venom as he could muster, "If he ever lays a hand on you again, or even thinks about it . . . . . . "


	15. A Dose of Reasoning

Chapter 15 – A Dose of Reasoning

Bart finally went to bed, as did Mary Alice. The poor girl was exhausted, and Bret sat with her for a while until she fell asleep. Bret was too worried about Mary Alice to sleep himself, and Beau was too angry after his son told him the whole story. They sat on the porch and watched the sun come up, Beauregard smoking one cigar after another, and Bret eventually giving in and having one with him.

"What are we gonna do, Pappy?" Bret asked plaintively.

"We're keepin' Mary Alice here with us until this is all worked out, that's for sure," Beauregard answered.

"But what are we gonna do about . . . . . you know?"

"We're doin' nothin', Bret. YOU stay out of this. I'll handle Ben Tompkins."

"I can't, Pappy. He hurt her. He deliberately hurt her. And what he wanted – "

"It's the drink, son. Ben's stopped thinkin' straight. He's got to quit the rot gut. Period."

"Can he?"

"I did."

"Ben Tompkins ain't Beauregard Maverick."

Pappy gave a little chuckle. "That's true, but he'll have somethin' I didn't have."

"What's that?"

"Me, watchin' him."

XXXXXXXX

When Bart woke the next morning, he was alone in the room. He rose and got dressed, and found Bret sound asleep in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. Feeling grateful that Pappy had left him relatively unscathed and now had some new kind of problem to deal with, he went outside and took care of the chores, both his and Bret's. When he came back in he brought enough eggs to fix breakfast for everyone, and found Mary Alice up and trying to make coffee. He set the eggs down and picked up the coffee pot. "Here, let me. How are you with eggs?"

"Good, as long as I can scramble 'em."

"Hey, we got some salt pork you can cook, too. Just eggs gets tiresome. Know anything about biscuits?"

As the two of them were putting the finishing touches on breakfast, Beauregard wandered out into the kitchen. "What is this? Breakfast? You two make a good team. Breton! Breakfast!"

Bret stirred but went right back to sleep. Pappy poured coffee into four cups and turned Mary Alice's head to face him. "Well, it looks better than it did last night. How's the lip this mornin'?"

"It hurts," she answered, trying to smile. "Especially when I do that."

"Sit down here and eat, young lady." He pulled out Mary Alice's chair for her and she sat. "Breton Joseph! Get yer butt outta that chair and come eat. There's real live breakfast here."

A hand slowly went up in the air from behind the chair, and soon the rest of the body followed. Bret came to the table yawning and was surprised to see all the food. "Who did all this?"

"Bart and Mary Alice. And I raised you with more manners than that, young man."

"Thanks for breakfast," he said to the two cooks. "I'll go do my chores after I eat."

"Already done 'em," Bart told his brother.

"Mine too?""

"Yours too."

Bret looked directly at his father. "Who is this? And what have you done with my brother?"

"Very funny, smart-aleck."

"Mr. Mav – Beauregard, is this the way they are all the time?" Mary Alice asked.

"Nope," Pappy answered. "Most of the time they're worse."

Breakfast continued with banter back and forth among the three teenagers. Beauregard smiled, pleased to see Mary Alice looking and acting more like herself this morning, rather than the frightened girl she'd been last night. Beau got up from the table and surprised everyone by gathering the dishes. "Bret, you go change clothes and get cleaned up. Bart, go out and hitch up the wagon, and saddle my horse. Your brother and I are goin' to the Tompkins house. Mary Alice, if there's anything in particular ya want ya make sure and write it down an give it to Bret. We'll bring it back for ya."

She started to ask, "Don't you want me to go . . . . . . "

"No, ma'am. You stay right here. I'll handle this. Bret, you get her belongin's and get outta there. I'll deal with Ben."

Bret nodded as he got up from the table. "Yes, sir."

Bart looked across the room at his father. "What are you gonna do with Mr. Tompkins, Pappy?"

Beau chuckled as he began to wash the dishes. "Son, as Lily Mae would put it, I'm gonna have a 'come to Jesus' meetin' with him. Whether he likes it or not."

Thirty minutes later Beauregard and his eldest son rode over to the Tompkins ranch, Beau handling the wagon with his horse tied to the rear of it. Everything seemed deathly quiet as they arrived, but didn't stay that way long. Beau climbed out of the wagon and handed the reins to Bret, telling him, "Stay put until I tell ya to come in. If you don't hear from me in a few minutes, take the horse and get outta here." Bret nodded and stayed put.

Beau pounded on the front door as hard as he could. "Ben Tompkins! Get yer butt up an open this door. Right now." He went back to pounding furiously on the door until a disheveled and hungover looking drunk yanked the door open as wide as it would go. Beau marched inside, pushing Tompkins out of the way and slamming the door behind him.

Bret fidgeted on the wagon seat for quite a while. He couldn't hear anything that was being said or not said, but he could hear voices – mostly Pappy's. When at long last the door opened, it was Pappy looking, if not exactly pleased, a little less disturbed than he had when entering. "Alright, Bret, come on in and get Mary Alice's things."

The boy hurried in as instructed and entered the room through the door instead of the window; everything was just as the teenagers left it when making their escape hours earlier. He gathered the personal items Mary Alice had asked for and made a trip back outside, returning a second time to retrieve her clothes. As he carried the few belongings she had to the wagon, Pappy stopped him at the door. "Go get the little black mare from the barn. She belongs to Mary Alice. And there's a black saddle an bridle out there, too. Bring it all." Bret nodded and headed for the barn. The door stayed open behind him, but Beauregard walked back inside the house.

By the time Bret brought the mare out, bridled and saddled, Beau had unhitched his horse from the wagon and tied her up in front of the house. "Go on home, son. I'm gonna stay here for a while."

"Everything alright?" Bret questioned his father, a note of concern in his voice.

"It will be," the elder Maverick replied. "I won't be long."

The boy nodded and jumped back up in the wagon, taking but a few moments to turn everything towards home, and the little procession started back up the road.

XXXXXXXX

Bart wandered out onto the porch and sat down in the rocker next to Mary Alice. She had just finished brushing her hair and it blew out long and straight in the breeze. "How do you stand it that long?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. How do you stand yours that short?"

"Always been this way. Don't like it any longer."

"See. That's the way I feel about mine. Don't want it any shorter."

"We're really different, huh? Girls an boys, I mean."

"Why do you say that?" Mary Alice asked.

"Well, cause . . . . . it just seems like we are."

"Not really. We like a lot of the same stuff."

"Like kissin'?" Bart asked, trying for the first time to understand why girls seemed so very different to him.

"You got any complaints about it?"

He shook his head. "Is it always like that? With different people, I mean."

"No. Everybody kisses different. You kissed Cora, huh?"

He gave her a look of absolute horror. "Does everybody know?"

Mary Alice giggled, the first truly 'girl' sound she'd made since arriving last night. At least, Bart thought of it as a 'girl' sound. "Just about. Cora was VERY impressed with you. She told all her friends."

Bart buried his head in his hands and made an indescribable sound. "Why me, Lord?"

Mary Alice reached over and raised his head. "You don't understand what that means, do you?"

"It means I'm gonna go crawl in a hole and stay there the rest a my life."

The girl just laughed. "It means they all wanna kiss you!"

"What?" He couldn't have been more surprised. "Why?"

"Cora says most boys don't know how to kiss. You do. So does your brother, but I'm not runnin' around town tellin' everybody. You can have your pick, ya know."

"My pick of what?"

Mary Alice laughed at that, the first time she'd done so in days. "Your pick of girls, silly."

Bart blinked in surprise. He actually didn't understand, but he believed her. "Okay, if you say so." He gave it a moment's thought and then asked a question. "Think one of 'em would kiss Beau?"

"Your cousin?"

"Yep. He's lookin' for a girl to kiss."

She giggled again. "I bet. They'll be wantin' to know if it runs in the family."

"What? Kissin'?"

"No, silly, good kissin'."

"Are you sure everybody ain't a good kisser?" Bart asked incredulously. He watched her shake her head.

"Not according to Cora an some of the other girls. It's a – what did she call it? – an 'art'."

She got a laugh out of him, at last. "Beau'll be glad to hear that. I'll go over an tell him when Pappy an Bret get back."

Bart liked Mary Alice. He hadn't really thought about it before, but he felt comfortable with her. She was easy to talk to, and she didn't laugh at him, no matter what he said. It was almost like having another brother around – one that giggled.

Two heads stared down the road when sounds of the wagon could be heard. Soon it came into view, with Bret driving and Mary Alice's horse trailing behind. "Nanny!" the girl yelled and ran out to greet her mare.

"Nanny?" Bart questioned. "Mary Alice, that ain't no name for a horse!"

She switched her attention from the mare to Bret, who was climbing down. Her arms around his neck, they kissed, and Bart didn't even cringe. "How much we got to take inside?" he asked.

"Not too much," Bret answered. "I thought girls had a lot of stuff."

"Some do," the girl answered soberly. "I don't. The only things that mean anything to me are my hairbrush, Nanny, and you."

"Hey, what about me?" Bart teased her.

"You're gettin' there," she teased back. Bart carried the first armload into the house as Bret looked down at her.

"You two are gettin' along well."

"We talked some," Mary Alice answered him. "Your brother's alright." The tone of her voice changed. "Did you see my Pa?"

"Just at the door. Pappy stayed to talk to him."

"How'd he look?" she asked.

"Drunk. No, hungover. Like he'd felt better in his life."

"What'll Beauregard do to him?"

Bret almost snorted. "He'll reason with him."

"Think that'll do any good?"

Bret rubbed his backside. "It always worked with me."


	16. A Modicom of Truth

Chapter 16 – A Modicum of Truth

Beau pounded on the front door as hard as he could. "Ben Tompkins! Get yer butt up an open this door. Right now." He went back to pounding furiously on the door until a disheveled and hungover looking drunk yanked the door open as wide as it would go. Beau marched inside, pushing Tompkins out of the way and slamming the door behind him.

The house was dark and reeked of whiskey. No, the house smelled of whiskey. Ben Tompkins was the one that reeked of it. "You smell worse than a saloon ain't been cleaned in months," Beauregard told Ben. "When was the last time you had a bath?"

"None a your damn business."

"You got any clean clothes?" Beau didn't wait for an answer. He marched into the first bedroom, obviously Tompkins room, and pulled pants and a shirt off a neatly folded stack piled in a chair. Then he went through the dresser until he found undergarments and socks. He dropped all the clean clothes on the bed. "Change clothes. I can't stand the smell of the crap you got on."

"Right now?"

"Right now," Beau answered. He picked up the stack of folded clothes left on the chair, dropped them on the floor and sat down.

"Get out," Ben growled, "if you expect me to change."

"So you can find another bottle an keep drinkin'? I ain't goin' nowhere, ya damn drunk. Change clothes."

"Everything?"

"Everything."

Tompkins turned his back to Beau and stripped down, then re-dressed as hurriedly as he could, considering he was still halfway between drunk and hung over. He turned around as he was buttoning up his shirt. "Now what?"

"Get back out in the other room."

Tompkins staggered back into the front room. Beau stayed about ten feet behind him at all times. "Do you remember what you did last night?"

"I . . . . uh . . . . . I. . . . . . no."

"You yanked your little girl outta bed and ordered her to fix you another supper, because you came home after the saloon probably threw you out, and your food was burned. You didn't like what she fixed and you took to drinkin' again, and when she asked you to stop you hit her."

"She mouthed off to me. Me, her own Pa. Me that puts a roof over her head and food in her mouth. Weren't no call for her ta do that. Damn right I hit her."

Ben was standing in the middle of the room swaying. Beau got as close as he could and backhanded the man, sending the younger man sprawling across the room. "Like that, ya moron? Now, my boy's gonna come in here and get your daughter's belongin's, and load 'em up outside. You ain't gonna lift a finger to stop him, and if you do I'll show ya what it's like to get your ass kicked by an old man." Beau went to the door and pulled it open. Bret was sitting in the wagon, and Pappy called out to him, "Alright, Bret, come on in and get Mary Alice's things."

Ben stayed right where he was on the floor as Bret went to Mary Alice's bedroom and in just a few minutes carried some things outside. He returned a second time for her clothes, and as he carried the few possessions she had to the wagon, Pappy stopped him at the door. "Go get the little black mare from the barn. She belongs to Mary Alice. And there's a black saddle an bridle out there, too. Bring it all." Bret nodded and headed for the barn. The door stayed open behind him, but Beauregard walked back inside the house.

"I'm sendin' my boy home now, and you an me are gonna have a talk. You get up and start makin' a pot a coffee." He went back outside and untied his horse from behind the wagon, tying her up again to the hitching rail, then waited until Bret returned with the black mare. "Go on home, son. I'm gonna stay here for a while."

"Everything alright?" Bret asked, sounding concerned.

"It will be. I won't be long."

Beau watched Bret turn the wagon around and head towards home. When he returned to the house, Tompkins had the pot of coffee started. Beau sat down at the table and motioned Ben to do the same. "You sober enough to hear me and understand what I'm sayin', Tompkins? Cause I'm only gonna say it once."

Tompkins shook his head no, and they sat in silence until the coffee was ready. Beau got up and poured two cups, then brought them back and set one down in front of each of them. "Drink it," he told Ben. By the end of the third cup Ben was ready to listen. Beauregard spoke quietly and clearly, but with an edge to his voice that challenged Tompkins to ignore him.

"You got a mighty good daughter. She's done her best to take care a you an this place, but she's your daughter. She ain't yer wife. You want a woman to take care a ya like that, either get yourself a whore or go get another wife. You ever suggest that Mary Alice should do it and so help me - you won't live long enough to make the suggestion a second time.

"An as for hittin' her and beatin' on her – you keep this in mind. Anything you do to her, I'll come over an do tenfold to you. An enjoy every minute of it. If you think I ain't serious, just give me an excuse."

"She's my daughter. You can't – "

"Don't tell me what I can't do. She's fifteen years old, legal marryin' age in Texas. You try anything with her, I'll marry her just to keep her safe from you."

Ben sat and stared at Beau. The old man was just ornery enough to do it, too. This was a battle he couldn't win, and he knew it. Before he could say anything Beauregard spoke again.

"And there's one more thing."

Tompkins looked at Maverick, defeat in his eyes and on his face. "What's that?"

"You've had the last drink you're ever gonna have."


	17. A Shock of Reality

Chapter 17 – A Shock of Reality

"Where you goin'?"

"To see Beau." That was partially the truth – Bart was going to see Beau after he'd gone to see Cora.

"Before Pappy gets back?"

Bart was getting ready to mount his horse, having already told Mary Alice what he was doing. Now the person questioning him was his brother. "I told Mary Alice. Didn't she tell you?"

"Yeah, she did, that's why I came out to see for myself."

"You didn't believe her?"

"Where else you goin'?" Bret asked with a grin.

"Why? You fixin' to come along?"

"What if I was?"

"I'd tell you to hurry up an get saddled." Bart grinned back. He knew his brother had no intention of leaving Mary Alice by herself.

"Naw, I'm stayin' here."

"I figured," Bart answered, and headed his horse towards his cousin's house. As soon as he got around the bend in the road he cut across the grasslands towards the Stampers place.

Bret turned back to the house. Mary Alice was inside, presumably putting her clothes and personal possessions away in her new room, and he needed to know if her frame of mind was any better than it had been when he returned from her father's house. Her door was open but he knocked on the door frame anyway. "Gettin' settled in?"

She turned to him with a small smile in place. "Yes, thanks. It may not be as pretty as my old bedroom, but it feels a lot safer."

"Good. You ought to feel safe – you are. Pappy's not back yet, but he should be along soon. You wanna go for a ride? I'll show you some of my favorite spots. Nanny probably could stand the exercise."

"You don't share Bart's sentiment? That Nanny's no name for a horse?"

Bret shrugged. "A horse don't care what you call it, as long as you take good care of it. Bart's one to talk. We had a dog named 'Whazit' because that's what Bart called 'im the first time he saw 'im."

"Did you name your horse?"

"Yep, named him Solomon."

"The Bible Solomon?"

"Was there another one? We learned how to read usin' the Bible, an Solomon was a wise man. So's Solomon. My horse, I mean."

"I didn't answer you. I'd love to go for a ride. I need the exercise, even if Nanny doesn't. But let's wait until Beauregard gets back. I want to know what happened with my Pa."

"All right. Change clothes and I'll go saddle the horses. Then we'll be ready when Pappy gets home."

"Close the door?"

"Sure." Bret did as asked and went out to the barn. He saddled Solomon and Nanny and led them outside and back to the house, then tied them to the hitching rail. Mary Alice walked into the front room, dressed in jeans and a shirt, as Pappy came riding up. Bret noticed the reins in Beau's left hand rather than the right and wondered what happened to cause it. "Everything okay?"

Pappy dismounted, slightly shaking his right hand. "Yep. Where's your girl?"

"Right here, Beauregard," Mary Alice answered. "You saw Pa?"

"That I did. We had a protracted discussion regarding the way a father treats his daughter. And we also discussed the premise that a gentleman never hits a lady. Ever."

"Did he have anything to say about that, Pappy?" Bret asked, knowing that something was amiss the way his father was favoring his right hand.

"No, not a thing. And he completely understands my point of view on the subject."

"You hit him?" Bret persisted.

"I did not," Beauregard stated succinctly. "I backhanded him." He let that sink in for a moment, and then added, "He's not going to drink anymore, either."

"I hope you're right, Beauregard. Nothing would make me happier than for Pa to quit drinking," Mary Alice told him.

"You two goin' somewhere?"

Bret nodded. "For a ride. Bart went to Beau's house, he said."

"You got a reason not to believe him?"

"Nope," Bret answered as he mounted Solomon, after helping Mary Alice up on Nanny. "I'm sure that's where he went." _'Eventually,'_ Bret added silently.

XXXXXXXX

"I don't have a horse," Cora told Bart, after he'd come hat-in-hand to ask her to go riding with him.

"You don't? How do you get anywhere?" Bart asked incredulously.

"Buggy or wagon," Cora told him.

"What about your brother? Does Jamie have a horse?"

"Sure does," Cora answered. "And he went over to the Walker's ranch with my father just a while ago. Won't be back for hours. We can take the buggy out if we're careful. You can drive a buggy, can't you?"

"Sure can. Come on, I'll hitch up the horse."

"You do that, I've got an idea. Mama fried some chicken for lunch, and then Daddy and Jamie left. I'll bring some and we can eat down by the river later. Alright?"

"You bet," Bart answered. "I'll be back in a few."

The Stampers buggy was the same kind the Mavericks had, so Bart had no difficulty getting everything ready. He drove the buggy out of the barn and up to the house, where Cora met him with a delicious smelling knapsack. "Got some cookies to go with it."

"Sounds real good," Bart answered, and headed the horse towards the secluded part of the river. He tried not to let his mind overthink things. He still wasn't sure what to say to Cora, but the thought of getting any more of those kisses was just too much temptation. Especially since Cora seemed more than happy to go with him, even providing lunch for the two of them.

Once they got where they were going Bart helped Cora out of the buggy and they put a blanket down under one of the Red Ash trees that lined the water. It was another hot day, and the breeze blowing across the river felt good. Cora sat close to Bart, her shoulder touching his, and he felt that little jolt of electricity shoot through him again. "It's a shame that you're here," she told him without warning.

"Huh? Why d'ya say that?"

Cora giggled. "Cause if you weren't I'd go skinny dippin'."

The thought of seeing a real live girl naked had never occurred to him, but now just the very mention of it sent a chill through him. "You . . . . . .you wouldn't!"

"Oh yes I would," she answered.

"With nothin' on?" he gulped.

"Absolutely, bare-butt naked," she asserted. "You've done it, ain't you?"

He started to tell her the truth, which was no, he hadn't gone skinny dippin' since he was about three years old, but thought better of it. Just the thought of a naked female was almost too much to bear, and he groaned. "Y-y-y-y-y-e-e-s," he finally got out, and said no more.

That same feeling came back; the one he'd had Friday night behind the barn. If she didn't say something soon, he'd die of a fatal mix of excitement and sheer terror. Excitement that she might actually do it, and sheer terror that she might not go skinny dippin'.

Cora sat up straight, having made her decision "Close your eyes," she told him, "and keep 'em closed until I say."

Again he did as instructed, and heard a lot of rustling and shuffling. Then a sound he had to strain to identify; finally it came to him. It was the sound of bare feet running across the ground, followed by a loud splash. "Open your eyes, Bart," Cora yelled, and his breath caught in his throat. Cora's blonde head bobbed up and down in the water, the long curls falling down and trailing behind her, and her clothes were piled on the blanket next to him. She was in the river. NAKED.

He tried to swallow and couldn't. "Come on," she called. "Take yours off, too. Come on in."

"My Pa'd kill me if he found out," was his reply.

"How's he gonna find out?" Cora answered.

If Bart had only been thinking . . . . . . but he wasn't. He wasn't capable of thinking right then. He just knew she was . . . . . he couldn't even think the word again. And his decision was almost as impulsive as hers.

He pulled his boots and socks off and quickly unbuttoned and shed his shirt. Before he lost his nerve he stood and skinned off his jeans and underwear and ran for the river, splashing in so close to Cora that his hand brushed her skin. "S-s-s-s-orry," he stuttered, and then laughed. It felt so good, so free and cool on his skin, and then before he had a moment to prepare himself she was in front of him, and he could see her form in the water. "My God, you're beautiful," he told her, and she put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him.

That raw, delicious bolt of shockwaves ran through his body again, and when she inched ever closer to him he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back, and then . . . . he felt her body against his, and he almost lost his mind. And just as instinct was about to take full possession of all his senses, he heard a voice boom out, "BARTLEY JAMISON MAVERICK! YOU GET AWAY FROM HER RIGHT THIS MINUTE!"


	18. A Volume of Learnin'

Chapter 18 – A Volume of Learnin'

The voice was so loud and authoritative that Bart was sure it was Beauregard, and he jumped away from Cora out of pure survival instinct. It took him a minute to realize the sound belonged to his brother, not his father.

"Close your eyes, Mary Alice," Bret directed as he hurriedly got down off Solomon. He turned his focus back to Bart. "Get out of there, right now!" he ordered, and Bart scrambled out of the river and ran for his clothes. It wasn't easy trying to pull his jeans on since he was soaking wet, but he finally managed it. Bret threw the remaining dry clothes off the blanket and rushed out to the water's edge, holding the cover out in front of him. "Wrap yourself up in this, Cora," he instructed the girl, and she didn't argue with him, but hurried out of the river and into the blanket. She covered herself with it and Bret turned back to his brother.

"Get dressed and get on Solomon," he ordered, and Bart didn't make a sound, just buttoned his shirt and sat down to put his socks and boots on. "Take your clothes over behind that bush and get dressed," was the next thing he told Cora, and she did as she was told. Once Bart mounted Solomon, Bret turned once again to Mary Alice. "Take him back to the house, please, but don't tell Pappy anything. I'll take Cora home." Mary Alice and Bart started for the ranch, and Bret waited on Cora to finish dressing. As soon as she came out from behind the bush he took hold of her arm and led her back to the carriage.

"Get in," he told her as he helped her up. She started to say something and he glared at her. "Not a word," he admonished, and she quieted down. He drove the buggy in silence almost all the way back to her house, and as they got within sight of the place he pulled the horse to a standstill for a moment. "He's thirteen years old, Cora. Thirteen years old. Stay away from him, or I'll tell your parents just what kind of a daughter they've raised." He urged the horse on and drove the buggy into the barn. He was so angry he left her sitting there, to get out of the buggy and unhitch the horse herself.

Bret stalked outside and mounted Bart's horse, turning for home immediately. In just a few minutes he was back at the ranch and found Bart in the Maverick barn, unsaddling Solomon and Nanny. "Where's Mary Alice?"

"In the house," Bart replied. "Are you – "

"Shut up," Bret ordered, and Bart did just that. Bret unsaddled Bart's horse and turned him out into the corral. He let Bart finish with the mounts and then grabbed his brother by the arm. "You an me's gonna have a talk," Bret proclaimed, and dragged Bart into the back stall. "Sit down."

The younger brother found a bale of hay and did as told, for once following every order Bret gave without argument or protest. The thought had crossed Bart's mind that it was a good thing it was Bret that found him and Cora and not Pappy. He wasn't sure he'd still be breathing if Beauregard had ridden up on them. Bret wouldn't get any more physical with him than he already had. At least Bart hoped that was true.

Bret found his own bale of hay and sat down. He loved his brother, of that there was little doubt. Bart had begun doing some questionable things that really disturbed and worried the older boy. His choice of friends, his penchant for mischief, and his continued involvement with Cora Stampers. Much as he didn't want to dwell on the negative things going on around the two young men, his real fear was that Bart would get himself into a situation that neither of them could get him out of. Bret looked at his brother, really looked at him, for the first time in a while.

He remembered what he'd told Cora. Bart was thirteen years old. Thirteen. Old enough to begin having physical changes that affected everything he did – the way he walked, the way his body responded to things, the attitudes and outlooks he had. His moods were certainly changing – one minute he was the happy-go-lucky boy he'd always been, the next minute he was a growling, miserable bear who hated the world and everything in it. Bret sighed. No matter what was going on in Bart's physical and mental makeup, he was still Bart Maverick, his little brother, and he always would be. It wasn't that long ago Bret had been at the same stage in life, although at fifteen he'd mostly grown out of it.

That love and desire to protect and explain, rather than berate and punish, were what pushed him into moderation. Ten minutes ago he'd been ready to yell and behave like a wild man. Now he just wanted Bart to understand what was happening to him, and learn to control the physical desires that propelled him forward.

"Do you understand what you two did was wrong?" Bret asked in a hushed voice.

"Yeah."

"Do you understand WHY it was wrong?"

"No."

"There's different kinds of women in the world, Bart. There's the kind you marry, like Momma and Mary Alice. They're ladies, and they should be treated with courtesy and respect. They don't do things with men that a lady wouldn't do, and what you an Cora were about to do. Then there's whores and saloon girls, loose women that'd do most anything with a man – for money, or just because. They still deserve courtesy but you don't fall in love with them, and you sure don't marry 'em. Then there's females like Cora Stampers – she ain't no whore, but she ain't no lady, either. She don't know which she wants to be, but I'll tell ya this – once you act like a whore ya can't ever go back to bein' a lady. Ladies don't go skinny dippin' with a boy that's barely old enough to pay attention to 'em.

"And if you an Cora woulda done what you was headin' towards doin' – what if she ended up havin' a baby, and you had to marry her? At fourteen years old, knowin' that you had to spend the rest a your life with her and a baby you didn't want or need? What happens to all your dreams about leavin' Little Bend and travelin' the country? Playin' poker all night an sleepin' all day? With a wife an a baby?"

"I . . . I never thought . . . "

Bret nodded. "I know ya didn't. I wouldn't have either, at your age. But it could happen, and what would ya do then? How would you provide for them? Stuck in one place, havin' to work all day at somethin' you hated? Never bein' able to do the things you wanted to do or go the places you wanted to go?

"And what if you met the right girl, and fell in love, and couldn't be with her because you had a wife and child? We can't always do the things we wanna do, and ya gotta learn when to say yes and when to say no."

"How – how do you know?"

Bret shook his head. "Sometimes ya don't. I ain't got all the answers, Bart. I ain't that much older than you, but when I get stuck I ask myself, 'What would Pappy do?' And then I try to see myself doin' the same thing. If it feels good, I know I made the right choice."

"What if ya do the wrong thing?"

"Then I own up to it an try to do somethin' different. You ain't always gonna be right. But you'll figure out when you done wrong. If you try to do the right thing, even if ya go wrong with it, you can hold your head up an look any man in the eye. And always be proud that yer name is Maverick."

Bart sat in silence for a minute or two. "That makes sense, I guess. And I can always ask you can't I?"

The older boy nodded. "Anytime, anywhere. I'll always be there for ya."

Another minute passed. "You gonna tell Pappy?"

"Do you think I should?"

Bart hung his head and answered quietly, "Yeah."

"Then I don't need to, do I? But believe this – this is the last free pass with Cora you get. Ya do somethin' stupid like that again and I will tell him. Understood?"

Bart looked up and smiled. "Yep. Bret – thanks."

Bret stood up and reached his hand out to help pull Bart to his feet. "I'm starvin'. Let's go see what we can rustle up." He slid his arm around his brother's shoulders, the way he would many more times in their lives. "I wonder if Mary Alice can cook?"


	19. A Measure of Comfort

Chapter 19 – A Measure of Comfort

Bret and Bart walked back into the house and found both Beauregard and Mary Alice sleeping. "You interrupted our ride, ya know, little brother. At least you can help me make lunch."

"That seems fair," Bart replied. "We still got some a that bread Lily Mae sent over with Beau, and there's salt pork left from what we cooked this mornin'. That's about the best I can do."

"Alright. We got any more tomatoes from Lily's garden?"

"Sure do," Bart answered. "I guess we'd starve without Lily Mae."

"Probably. So let's make sure an tell her how much we appreciate what she does for us, huh?"

"Did I just hear my name?" the lady herself asked, as she came through the front door, which was standing open.

"Yes ma'am, you did. An considerin' we were just about to make lunch, we wanted to thank you for everything you do to keep us fed an in clothes an everything else," Bret explained.

Beau followed Lily in, carrying a big basket of all kinds of goodies – bread, pies, cookies, corn bread, vegetables from the garden, and something that smelled delicious, a giant serving of Lily's own fried chicken. Plus a large pot of beef and vegetable soup.

"Come on, come get the chicken while it's hot. Y'all can eat the soup later. Mr. B, go in an see if your Pappy wants to eat with us."

"And Mary Alice," Bret added.

"Mary Alice is here?" Beau asked.

"Yep, brought her home last night. I'll explain later," Bret told his cousin.

The girl emerged from her room first, and after Beau and Lily Mae saw the marks on her face, there was no explanation necessary. Beauregard stumbled out of his room last, following his youngest son. "Not about to miss Lily Mae's fried chicken," he announced, and everyone laughed.

"And corn bread," Bret reminded the group.

Some time later, when everyone had eaten as much as they could, Lily Mae brought out the piece de resistance – Pecan Pie. "I know it ain't like Miss Belle made, but it's as close as I can get," Lily Mae explained.

"Close enough," Beauregard remarked, as he closed his eyes in appreciation of the effort.

Stuffed beyond capacity, the boys cleaned up afterwards while Lily Mae pulled Mary Alice aside and talked to her. "They're good boys," Lily told the girl, "but they been without a woman around for a long time, so it ain't gonna be easy. You need anything, you come see me. And if you end up doing any cookin', Beauregard'll take you into Little Bend and get whatever you want. But don't let 'em convince ya to do that just by lookin' pitiful, especially Mr. B. They all know how to cook well enough to get by without starvin'."

"Thank you, Lily. What about laundry?"

"I come over an do it once a week. That seems to work out good. Same thing as cookin,' don't let 'em talk ya into anything."

Beauregard walked over holding his stomach. "You've done yer best to kill me again, Lily Mae. Here's for the week," and he handed her money.

"Mr. Beau, I keep tellin' you ya don't hafta do this. Mr. Ben pays me just fine."

"I'm sure he does Lily Mae, but that's for Ben. This is for me. We have this discussion every week."

Lily Mae shrugged and put the money in her pocket. She looked at Mary Alice and explained, "They ain't cheap people."

Beau pulled his cousin aside. "Remember what we talked about?"

Bart blinked and looked at Bret. "Next time there's somethin' goin' on in Little Bend, Beau – "

"Yes?"

"Ask a girl, any girl. They'll go with ya and be more than happy to oblige ya."

"They will?"

Bart nodded. "I guarantee it."

"Don't that beat all?" Beau laughed and slapped Bart on the back. "I don't know how ya did it, Cousin Bart, but I sure thank you."

"Think nothin' of it, Cousin Beau. Think nothin' of it."

Bret took Mary Alice's hand and led her outside, over to the corral where Nanny and Solomon were nuzzling each other. "Looks like they've got the right idea," Bret remarked.

"What are you going to do about Bart?"

"I've already done it. I sat him down and tried to explain to him where he was headed, and what he might be in for if he kept seein' Cora. The consequences of his actions and how it would affect the rest of his life. He paid real close attention to what I had to say. I don't think he'll try to go anywhere near her again. Least I hope he won't. "

"You gonna tell Beauregard?"

"No. But I told Bart if he pulled another stunt like that I'd tell Pappy. He seemed to be okay with it."

"What happened with Cora?"

"I took her home."

"What did you tell her?"

Bret leaned against the fence and let go of Mary's hand. He pushed his hat to the back of his head, a habit he would carry through into old age. "I told her the truth. That Bart's only thirteen, and if she didn't stay away from him, I'd tell her parents what she was."

"What is she, Bret?"

"I'm not sure I know, Mary Alice, but she's on the verge of bein' somethin' that she shouldn't want to be. You can't just go around wavin' yourself in front of men like you're a flag and expect to end up with a good man. Takin' off her clothes and runnin' naked into the river! And callin' in a little boy until he does the same! What kind of a lady does that? What else does she wanna do? What else is she gonna do?" Bret shook his head, all the disgust he'd felt for Cora earlier rising again to the top.

Mary Alice heard the hostility in his voice and stared down at the ground. "What does that make me then?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"What does that make me then? Because I want to do more than just kiss you and hold your hand, too."

"You do?"

"Yes."

He wrapped her in his arms then and pulled her in close. "That makes you my girl, Mary Alice. That's what it makes you. My girl."


	20. Shattered Glass

Chapter 20 –Shattered Glass

Everything remained quiet and peaceful around the Maverick Ranch for over two weeks. Most hot days the boys swam down at the river; sometimes Mary Alice joined them, bringing a book and sitting under a tree on the banks to partake of the cooler breezes that came off the water. Other days she stayed at the house and did whatever she could to try and restore some semblance of order to the place. Slowly the four of them fell into a routine that seemed almost pleasant.

Beauregard had not seen Ben Tompkins in town during that period, and one morning on his way home from a night of poker he stopped at the Tompkins Ranch. The place was deserted and looked like it had been for some time. All the livestock were gone, along with most of Ben's clothes. Beau shook his head and hoped that meant Tompkins was off somewhere working, and not holed up somewhere drinking. He headed for his own ranch and mused about just what it was that held a family together, and what it was that tore them apart.

' _I gotta remember to thank Bentley for forcing me to be a father after Belle died,_ ' Beau thought as he headed his horse homeward. He'd been looking for a solution to the pain of losing his beloved wife; his brother forced him to focus on the boys rather than himself. It was the best thing that could have happened, given the circumstances. He was hoping that Tompkins was doing the same, trying to earn a living for him and his daughter instead of drinking himself to death. Time would tell.

The barn dance at the Miller's had been so successful that another was scheduled for the coming Friday night. Cousin Beau took Bart at his word and asked Sally Walker, one of their classmates and a girl his own age, to the dance. Bart was strong-armed into requesting that her younger sister Jo go with him, and since she had a mad crush on the thirteen-year-old, she gladly accepted. The girls had an older sister, Winnie, who was a good friend of Bret's; because he had eyes for no one but Mary Alice, Winnie agreed to accompany Simon Petry. Uncle Bentley had aranged to pick everyone up in the buggy and play 'chauffer' to the dance.

Bart, it could be said, was on the nervous side of things. He had no idea what Cora Stampers might or might not have told half the county about him, and he didn't know what to expect from Jo Walker. The three Walker sisters were full of life and always fun to spend time with, even for girls, but Bart worried as much as a boy his age could about anything that Cora might have gossiped about.

Cousin Beau was beside himself with excitement and didn't understand why Cousin Bart wasn't near as enthusiastic. Bret tried to convince his brother there was nothing to worry about, but Bart was no longer naive about the way rumors spread and dreaded the entire experience. Mary Alice even talked to Bart about what to anticipate, and advised him to hold his head up and look everybody right in the eye; especially Cora and her brother Jamie.

Fortunately for all involved, Cora and Jamie were not at the dance on Friday, and there seemed to be no controversy or gossip revolving around the girl or Bart Maverick. For whatever reason, probably mostly self-preservation, Cora hadn't spread one word of the 'skinny dipping' episode. Bret and Mary Alice only had time for each other, and Beau seemed to be having a good time with Sally, especially when they returned from 'getting some fresh air' outside late in the evening. Bart and Jo talked mostly about school and the upcoming year. Even though there was no kissing at the dance there was some snuggling and cuddling, which the boy soon discovered was enjoyable, if not quite as exciting. And Bart was pleased that there was none of the earth-shattering confusion that had accompanied the first dance.

Uncle Bentley returned to carry everyone home and there was a lot more hand-holding on the ride. Bart, Beau, and the Walker sisters agreed to go for a ride on Sunday and decided to meet at the swimming hole around noon. The two boys accompanied the sisters up the steps to the porch and said good-night, each receiving a kiss on the cheek for their efforts. On the way back to the buggy Beau glanced at Bart. "Not as exciting as the last dance for you, huh?" he asked his cousin.

"Just fine, far as I'm concerned," Bart answered. "Did you get your kiss?"

Beau just grinned, and Bart assumed that meant 'yes.' "Sally's a sweet girl. And a good dancer. How'd you an Jo do?"

"Alright. I gotta learn to dance better. Never thought I'd say that."

"Things change," Beau offered.

"Don't they, though?" came Bart's reply.

"Everything good?" Uncle Ben asked as they resumed their seats in the buggy. Both boys nodded, and Ben headed for his house, where everyone was spending the night. He had more than enough rooms to accommodate the sleeping arrangements, and soon everyone was settled in their own space.

Bart tried to sleep but couldn't. He'd had a much more pleasant time tonight than at the previous dance, yet something was missing. The excitement, the thrill of his first kiss, the confusion he'd felt at the conflicting feelings he'd experienced? He wasn't sure and soon found himself wandering down to his brother's room. He knocked softly and heard Bret's voice. "Come in."

"Hey, you awake, too?"

"Yeah, but I'd guess for a different reason than you," his brother remarked. "Somethin' wrong?"

Bart gave that some thought. "I ain't sure."

"Less exciting than your first barn dance?"

"Yeah, it was. Less terrifyin', too. How can girls be so . . . . . different?"

"Same way you an me are different."

"I mean . . . . just, Cora an Jo. Jo's a nice girl an all, but Cora . . . . . Cora was so, so exciting. Scary, in a good way. I don't know how to explain it."

"She was the first girl you ever . . . . . well, you ever got close to. Think a what it's gonna be like when we leave Texas, an you meet new girls everywhere. Every single one of 'em is gonna be different. Some excitin', some frustratin', some of 'em will drive you crazy."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Never thought about that. What about you an Mary Alice?"

"Me an . . . . . . I don't know, Bart. That's a good question. I don't have an answer right now; I guess I'll work it out somehow."

Bart always felt better, more at ease and relaxed, whenever he talked to Bret. Tonight was no exception, and he finally began to feel sleepy. When he yawned, he knew it was time to go back to bed and try again.

"I'll see ya in the mornin', alright?"

"I'll see ya in the mornin', little brother."

Now Bret was awake, and he lay in bed for a while wondering just what he was going to do about Mary Alice. He still hadn't answered the question of whether he loved her or not, but the longer he was around her the more he became convinced that he did. What did that mean for his life? Ever since they were small, he and Bart and Beau had talked about being roving gamblers, just like their fathers had been in their younger days. What did that mean for Mary Alice? He couldn't just go off and leave her. He could always take her with him, but to do that he knew he'd have to marry her. And what if she didn't want to travel, but wanted to stay and settle somewhere – maybe even here in Little Bend? Could he handle Bart and Beau getting to realize their dreams while he was tied down in one spot, and to one woman?

He rolled over onto his back and sighed. It was too much to think about, especially at the age of fifteen. But that's where he was, and those were the thoughts going through his mind. Eventually he got out of bed and went down the hall to Mary Alice's room. He knocked on her door, much like Bart had knocked on his, and waited for a minute. Finally he heard a muffled, "Bret?" and opened it a crack.

"It's me," he whispered.

"Come in," came the whispered reply. "Are you still up?"

"No, up again. Bart needed to talk, and then I got to thinkin' about you. And me."

"Sit down," she directed him, and patted the top of the covers next to her. "What about you and me?"

He sat down on the very edge of the bed. "Did you ever think about what you wanted to do? For the rest of your life, I mean. Ever think about it?"

"Sort of. I want to be married, and have babies, and live happily ever after."

"Is that all?"

"Isn't that enough?"

He shook his head. "Don't you wanna go anywhere, see anything, do anything?"

"Like what?"

"Like California. San Fransisco. Kansas City. St. Louis. New Orleans. Savannah. See the Mississippi River. Ride on a riverboat. Party at Mardi Gras."

"I guess. It would be nice. But not necessary."

That made him scratch his head. "Really? You'd be happy just to stay in Texas and never go anywhere?"

"Sure. Wouldn't you?"

"Me? No, ma'am. I want to go all those places, see every one a those things. And more. I wanna go wherever I want, whenever I want. I wanna ride my horse cross country. I wanna go to Mexico. I wanna see snow. There's so many places I wanna go, and things I wanna do. I thought maybe you did, too."

"Right now I want to go back to sleep." Mary Alice lay her head back down on her pillow. "Can the rest of this wait until morning? I'm awfully tired."

Bret leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "Sure. It can wait. Sorry I woke you up."

"Goodnight," she called as he went to the door.

"Goodnight." He closed the door behind him and stepped out into the hall. Mary Alice had just rejected all of his plans and dreams for the future. Now he was going to have to decide – did his future lie here in Texas, with the girl he loved, or in all those places he talked about, with his brother and his cousin? Which road, which path? Right or left?


	21. Gone, Baby, Gone

Chapter 21 – Gone, Baby, Gone

Three days later Pappy was sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee when Bret got out of bed and wandered in. "Hey, boy, mornin'. Your brother up yet?"

Bret laughed as he poured a cup of coffee. "Pappy, this is Bart we're talkin' about. Whatta you think?"

Beauregard shook his head. "Forget I asked. That's alright, I wanna talk to you, anyway."

"What did I do now?"

"It's not about what you did, it's about what you're gonna do."

"About what?"

"Well, probably the rest a your life, but the immediate future'd be a good place to start."

"You mean when school starts?"

"I mean when school would start if you were still goin'. Don't see any need for any more book learnin', do you?"

A big grin creased the young man's face. "No, Pappy, I don't. I was hopin' you'd be agreeable to that."

"So, where do ya go from here?"

"Well, I'd like to join you and Uncle Ben for poker at night."

"That's a good start, son, but you must wanna do more than that, don'tcha?"

Bret's head bobbed up and down. "Yes, sir, but not till Bart's old enough to go, too. Him an me and Beau wanna do what you and Uncle Ben did – go everywhere an play poker."

"And you're willin' to stay here until Bart's older?"

"Yeah, Pappy, I'm not leavin' without him."

"Good. Glad to hear that. Now, there's somethin' else – "

' _What else could there be?'_ Bret wondered.

"What is Mary Alice gonna do?"

"I . . . . . " Bret started, then realized he couldn't give his father an answer. "I don't know. We haven't talked about it."

"Best find out. I went to the ranch and there's no sign of her Pa, so I don't know where he is. She's welcome here long as she wants to stay."

Just as Beau finished, Mary Alice came out into the kitchen. "Good morning, Papa Beau," she greeted him as she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "Good morning, Mr. Maverick," and she did the same to Bret. "Did I hear something about my father? And does anyone want some porridge? I can make it pretty quick."

Bart came running out of the bedroom, fully dressed. "No porridge! I'm goin' out to milk the cow and gather the eggs. I'll be right back!"

Bret and Mary Alice burst out laughing, and even Beauregard smiled. "That boy just does not like porridge," Bret remarked.

"Mary Alice, to answer your question, I went by your house a few days ago. There was no sign of your Pa or any of the livestock. Did he have a job lined up that you know about?"

"No, not that I know of."

"I'll check back in a couple days and see if he's turned up. Bret, pour me some more coffee, would ya, son? Mary Alice, you goin' back to school in September?"

She didn't seem surprised by the question. "I think so, but as an assistant for Miss Spencer. We've talked about me bein' a teacher and the best way to do that. She thinks I should come help her out. There's a whole bunch of little ones coming in this fall, and she can't teach them all by herself."

Bret reached over and took her hand. "You didn't say nothin' about this the other night."

"I know," she told him. "What you asked me got me to thinking. I want to give this a try."

"I think you'd be great at it," he replied. "I'm gonna start playin' poker regular with Pappy an Ben."

Beauregard sighed quite audibly. Bret looked up, startled. "What's wrong, Pappy?"

"Just thinkin'. My little boys ain't so little anymore."

' _You don't now the half of it,'_ Bret thought. "No, Pa, we're growin' up. Can't be helped."

"Seems like just yesterday – "

Bart came running back in with some milk in a bucket and a basket full of eggs. "Milk! Eggs! No porridge, please! I'll even help!"

All four of them laughed. "Told ya how Bart felt about porridge," Bret reiterated, and Mary Alice got the skillet out.

XXXXXXXX

That night Bret and Beau rode into Little Bend with their fathers. Ben skipped poker to visit Corinne Waters, a lady he'd been seeing on and off for over a year. It was nothing serious, but she was a widow lady and had a long-standing fondness for Ben. It was nice to go to her house and share coffee and conversation with a lady of like mind, and Beauregard suspected that she and Ben shared more than just pleasantries with each other. Of course he had no room to ask any questions; after all, there was Jenny McClaine in Claytonville, and Beau never discussed her with Ben. The boys each found a game and Beauregard drank coffee at the bar with Ray Ames for a while.

"What'd you do about that thing between Cora Stampers and young Mr. Bart, anyway?" Ray asked.

"Do?" Beauregard replied. "I didn't do anything; why?"

"Because the Stampers sold their ranch, packed up and left last week. Gone. Vacated the valley."

"Who'd they sell to, that fast?"

"New family, Hayden. Pa named Jessie, with a boy older than Bret named Jessie. Gonna open a Dry Goods store I hear tell. Seems friendly enough. I thought mebbe you went an had a talk with ole man Stampers, scared the livin' daylights outta him."

"Now Ray, would I do that?" Beauregard smiled. Ray had seen that smile before. He remembered the night some drunk cowpoke accused Bart of cheating and backhanded the boy, who was only ten years old at the time. Beauregard was smiling as he pounded the drunk's head against the floor in retaliation. That smile could be deadly.

Finally Beauregard found himself a game and sat down to play some poker. Funny thing, Bret watched him all night; no matter how the cards fell, the smile never left his father's face. Ben appeared about two o'clock in the morning and all four Mavericks agreed that home sounded like a good idea. The group split at the fork and Beauregard rode a way with his oldest son before he brought up the subject of the Stampers.

"Ray says they sold out real quick and left the valley."

"Pa – "

"Nope, not a word. I said nothin' to them at all. But I'm glad they're gone."

' _You an me both,'_ thought Bret. Out loud he asked, "Who'd they sell to?"

"Family named Haden. Ray says they're gonna open a Dry Goods store."

"Was that the reason for the smile? The Stampers leavin', I mean?"

Beauregard laughed softly. "I will admit, I was glad to hear it."

"Whatta you gonna tell Bart?"

"Nothin' to tell him, except they're gone."

For once, Bret sighed in relief.


	22. Fifty-Seven Dollars

Chapter 22 – Fifty-Seven Dollars

Beau and Bart rode to the swimming hole on Sunday to meet Sally and Jo Walker, Beau bringing a whole load of Lily Mae's cornbread and Bart a jug of sun tea he'd made. The girls came loaded with fried chicken and a blanket that was spread under one of the Green Ash trees at the river. It was a little cooler but there was still a nice breeze off the water, and the four teenagers ate and chatted about their summer and plans for school in the fall, which was rapidly approaching. Bret and their older sister Winnie were both done with schooling, and it felt strange to realize that neither would be at lessons with them every day.

"What's Bret going to do?" Sally asked. She was tall, almost as tall as Beau, with long auburn hair and blue eyes, and a soft spot for the blonde-haired Maverick.

"Start playin' poker at night with Pappy and Uncle Ben," Bart answered.

"Thought he'd be leavin' Little Bend as soon as school was done," Jo remarked. She was a little thing, with brunette curls and blue-green eyes, and would spend the rest of her 'girlhood' with a never ending crush on Bart.

"He ain't leavin' till we can all three go together," Beau told the girls.

"Is he gonna marry Mary Alice? He'd break Winnie's heart if he did," Sally remarked.

"Bret get married? He's only fifteen!" Bart protested.

"So what?" Jo asked. "Lots of people get married at fifteen or sixteen."

Beau had no doubts at all in his mind. "Bret wouldn't do that. That's all we talked about since we were little. Leavin' Little Bend and travelin' the country."

"People do funny things when they're in love, Beau Maverick," Jo insisted. "I seen them at the dance. He was sure moonin' over that girl somethin' fierce."

Bart scoffed at the whole idea. "Bret in love? More like Mary Alice is in love with him."

"Maybe," Sally replied, "but he's awful attentive to her. Never even looks at anybody else. Winnie keeps hopin' they'll break up."

"Ain't lookin' for that to happen, neither," Bart stated. "Bret's a loyal dog."

"Oh well, Winnie can always hope," Jo offered. "Let's clean this up and ride!"

It was a fun afternoon, with all four enjoying the time spent together. They had no idea what was happening back at the Maverick Ranch, and how it would come to affect their lives.

XXXXXXXX

Jake Donnelly rode out to do something he found distasteful but necessary. One of the less pleasant aspects of his job as sheriff of Little Bend, Texas. He knew better than to make the trip too early; Mary Alice would probably be the only one up in the morning and he didn't want her to be alone when he told her. Matter of fact, he would just as soon not have to tell her at all – maybe he would catch Beauregard up and awake and the news would be easier to deliver.

Donnelly was in luck; Beau had just gotten out of bed and was drinking cold coffee, from the looks of the cup he held when he answered the door. "Uh-oh, which one's in trouble now?" Beau asked when he ducked his head out and saw the sheriff standing there.

"Neither one," Donnelly answered, and Beauregard held the door open wide.

"Bad news?"

Jake nodded and asked, "Where's Mary Alice?"

A knowing look crossed Beau's face and he nodded towards the porch. "Let's talk out here, Sheriff." The Maverick patriarch sat in one rocker and Jake took the other. "I'd offer ya some, but it's cold," he said, indicating what was in his cup.

"That's alright, I've had too much already," Donnelly responded. "I ain't got good news, Beau."

"Didn't figure you did," came the reply. "Ben Tompkins?"

Jake nodded. "He was workin' for Hugh Campton down in Temple. Buildin' a new corral, and Ben was drivin' the wagon haulin' the lumber. Freak accident. Prairie dog poked his head up an scared the horses; wagon turned over and threw Ben out. He landed on the pile he'd just helped unload and broke his neck. Died right there."

"Drunk or sober?" Beau asked.

"Sober," Donnelly told him. "Ben weren't drinkin' anymore, accordin' to Campton. He feels right sorry about what happened; says he's gonna pay expenses to bury Tompkins. And he sent the wages over, and personal belongin's, includin' some money that Ben saved. Looks like maybe Mary Alice's daddy was finally tryin' to do the right thing. Course the ranch is hers, too, free an clear."

Beau sighed and tossed out the rest of his coffee. "Not gonna be easy, tellin' her about her Pa. You want me ta do it?"

The sheriff shook his head. "Nope, it's my job. But it'd help a whole lot if you'd be there with her. She's gonna need somebody to lean on."

Beau nodded and got up. "She's out back with Bret. I'll go get 'em." He walked around the back of the house, and the sheriff heard Beau call, "Bret, Mary Alice, come on up here."

The two sweethearts came running, laughing along the way, but the laughter stopped as soon as they caught sight of the sheriff. Donnelly rose and studied Mary Alice, and a light seemed to go out in her eyes.

"Pa?" was all she said, and Jake nodded. "What happened?"

Sheriff Donnelly repeated everything he'd told Beauregard, including the part about no longer drinking, and pulled a small role of money from his inside vest pocket. "This is yours, Mary Alice. I assume you want your Pa laid to rest in the cemetery next to your Ma?"

The girl nodded and Beau stepped forward and wrapped her up in his arms, waiting for the tears that never came. "You alright?" he asked.

"Yes," she whispered, then shook off Beau's paternal embrace and turned to Bret. When he folded her into his arms she sobbed once, then seemed to get hold of herself.

"I'm truly sorry, Mary Alice," Jake told her. "I've got his things with me. Do you want 'em?"

"Yes, sir, please."

Donnelly went to his horse and removed a knapsack, handing it to the girl. "He'll be in town this afternoon. You come on into the undertakers and we'll get everything taken care of." He turned to Bret. "You bring her in?"

"Yeah," came Bret's answer, as he held on to Mary Alice tightly.

"Sorry for the news," the sheriff said once more, then mounted and rode away.

"Come on over here and sit down, girl," Beauregard told her, and she set the knapsack on the porch and did just that. Pappy sat down next to her and enveloped her small hand in his. "He was headed in the right direction, Mary Alice. You heard what Donnelly said, he quit drinkin' and was workin' and savin' money. It was just bad timin'."

"I know, I know it was. I just wish . . . . . I wish I could have told him that I forgave him, and I still loved him."

"He knew that, sweetheart. He knew."

"You think he did?"

Beauregard nodded. "I'm sure he did, Mary Alice." He looked at Bret, who was watching both of them intently. "We always know." Slowly the tears began to fall, and Beau held her hand tighter. Bret crouched down next to the rocker she sat in and took her other hand.

"He never meant to hurt you, baby. That's why he quit drinkin', to show you how sorry he was. You have to remember him the way he was before."

Her head bobbed up and down. "I'm sure you're right. He wasn't a bad man."

Beau agreed with her. "He made mistakes, Mary Alice. We all do. But he was workin' on fixin' 'em. Do you want me to go into town with ya later?"

"Yes, please, would you?" She turned her head back to Bret. "Both of you?"

The younger Maverick nodded. Mary Alice let go of Beau's hand but held onto Bret's, and looked at the wad of money that the sheriff had given her. "There must be fifty or sixty dollars here. What am I gonna do with all this money?"

"You got a bank account?"

"No."

"Then we'll get ya set up with one. We can take care of that later this week. Do you want me to keep it for ya until we do?" Beau asked.

"Would you please?" She handed the wad of money to Beau and stood up, Bret standing with her. "Can we take a walk down to the river?" she asked him, and he clutched her hand and led her off the porch.

Beau sat in the rocker for a few minutes and watched until they were out of sight, then glanced down at the money in his hands and counted it. Fifty-seven dollars. Sad that her father's life only amounted to such a pittance. He reached into his own wallet and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill, then wrapped it around the money from the sheriff and put it under the flap on the inside, keeping it separate from the rest of his funds. He put the wallet back in his pocket. This changed everything. Or did it?


	23. Playing with a New Deck

Chapter 23 – Playing with a New Deck

Mary Alice stayed calm all the way down to the river; much calmer than Bret had expected her to be. He knew she loved her father, despite what happened between them, and was probably blaming herself for his death. Finally he could stand no more silence. "It's not your fault, you know."

"I see how you could believe that," was her answer.

"It's not, Mary Alice. You didn't cause the accident, no more than you caused his drinkin'."

"Maybe if I hadn't left – "

"You can't think like that. You don't know what woulda happened. It could just as easy be you that's gone instead of him."

Mary Alice leaned back against the tree and studied Bret's face carefully. "You really believe that?"

"Yes, I do. You never know how things are gonna turn out."

"But – "

Bret put his arms around her and pulled her against him. "Don't, honey. Don't make yerself crazy over it. There's nothin' you can do to change it, anyway."

"I suppose you're right," she said, her words muffled by his shoulder. "But I don't know what's going to happen now."

"About?"

"About the ranch, about me and where I live. I've got an aunt in Louisiana. She might want me to come live there."

She pulled away from Bret and watched him. She could tell from the expression on his face that thought hadn't crossed his mind. "Go live . . . Louisiana . . . . no . . . . Mary Alice . . . . no!"

Mary Alice nodded. "My mother's sister. She tried to send for me when Mama died, but I didn't want to go and Pa agreed with me. Now . . . . there's nothing to stop her from insisting."

"You can't – I mean – I don't want you to go – do you think she will?"

"I don't know. What choice do I have? I can't stay here by myself." She leaned back against the tree, letting it hold her upright.

"You could move back to the ranch. I could . . . . go with you."

"And do what?" she asked. "Work the ranch? You've said yourself you want to play poker. I know how you feel about bein' a rancher."

"I could . . . . I could play poker at night and we could hire somebody to run the ranch."

"I don't think my Aunt Sarah's gonna let me live there – not till I'm older."

Bret had to remind himself to breathe and not get too far ahead worrying about things that hadn't happened yet. "Ya know what? Let's not worry about it until whatever happens, happens. Let's just go back to the house and head into Little Bend. There's other things to worry about right now."

"Alright." Mary Alice pushed herself away from the tree and took his hand. "Let's do."

XXXXXXXX

Bart rode up to the house after spending the afternoon with Beau and the Walker sisters and was surprised to find Pappy awake and sitting on the porch. "What's wrong? You're not up at this time of day."

His father didn't take long to answer. "Jake Donnelly came by. Ben Tompkins was killed in a freak accident."

The boy looked around. "Where's Mary Alice? And Bret?"

"Down by the river. I think Mary Alice needed some time. We're goin' in to see the undertaker when they get back. Why don't you come, too, and we can get supper afterwards?"

"Ain't you playin' poker tonight?" Bart asked.

"No, son, I don't much feel like it tonight. Maybe the three of us can play here. It's been a while since we did that."

"We can teach Mary Alice! If she wants to learn, I mean."

"We can if she wants to. How was your afternoon? Did you an Beau have a good time?"

Bart nodded and grinned. "Hard not to, with the Walker girls around. Sure are more fun to spend time with than Cora."

"That reminds me – Ray Ames told me the Stampers sold their place and moved away. He don't know where."

Bart shrugged. Beau was happy to see he wasn't taking the news hard. "Don't matter. We were done, anyway."

"That's a good attitude, son. No use cryin' over spilt milk; it coulda been whiskey."

"You gonna take the buggy, Pappy?"

"Yes, sir. You get it ready for us?"

"Sure. When are they gonna be back?"

"Anytime, I'd expect. Matter a fact, I think I see 'em, now."

"I'll go take care of it for ya." Bart breathed a sigh of relief since he no longer had to worry about Cora or Jamie. Maybe he could find out from Fred Taylor just exactly why the Stampers left in such a hurry. He headed for the barn to hitch up the horses and actually found himself whistling as he went. Sometimes life was good.

XXXXXXXX

The ride into Little Bend was quiet and subdued. Mary Alice had changed into a dress and kept a tight grip on Bret's hand the whole way there. Bart brought up the idea of playing poker once they got home and was pleased to discover that Mary Alice could play, at least a little, and was interested in doing anything to take her mind off her father.

The Undertaker, Samuel Longstreet, was most felicitous of Mary Alice's feelings and wishes. Yes, Mr. Campton had arranged to pay for the funeral and the cost of burial, and Mr. Tompkins body had arrived without further incident. Beauregard stayed close to Mary Alice's side, while Bret never turned loose of her hand. Bart was fascinated by all the different choices in 'burial boxes', and peppered Mr. Longstreet with questions about them. Mary Alice finally made her choice for something quite simple and plain, and the funeral was arranged for the next afternoon at four o'clock.

They left the undertaker's and walked back to Nellie's Diner. Steak and mashed potatoes was the special for the night, and all four ordered it – two rare and two well-done. Bret made a face when he discovered Mary Alice ate hers the same way as his brother. "How can you?" Bret protested. "All the flavor is gone!"

"But it's cooked," she answered, and 'little brother' nodded vigorously.

"My point exactly," Bart insisted smugly.

"But it's burnt!"

Beauregard almost laughed at the three of them arguing with each other. It was a relief to listen to them sounding like the children they still were rather than the grown-ups they were trying so hard to become. He chuckled to himself, wondering what, if any, affect Mary Alice's preference for steak would have on his son's relationship with her.

The ride home was much more lively than the ride into town had been. The disagreement over how to cook a steak had opened up all sorts of areas for discussion, from why men smoked cigars to why women didn't wear boots under their petticoats. Beau listened to the arguments made by both sides in the debates and marveled at the variety of opinions expressed, including the differences in attitudes between his own sons. It was still reasonably early when they arrived home, and Bart once again offered to take care of the horses and buggy. His youngest son was in an unusually good mood, and Beauregard had no idea it stemmed from discovering the Stampers in general and Cora in particular held no further sway over whether he lived or died.

For this occasion Beauregard brought out a brand new deck of cards. He shuffled and split shuffled and three finger shuffled and performed every fancy trick he knew, all to cheer up Mary Alice. And the girl appreciated it greatly. No matter how the relationship had ended, Ben Tompkins was her father and she had just been left an orphan.

They played until the wee hours of the morning. Mary Alice lost almost every hand, but never laughed so hard in her life. Beauregard was surprised that Bret won as much as he did, beating his father about every third hand. Bart's play had improved tremendously in the almost four years he'd been allowed to sit in at the Little Bend Bar, and he gave Bret all he could handle more often than not. Beau's pride swelled as it became more and more evident to him that both of his boys were going to be able to beat him consistently in the not too distant future. He'd been one of the very best in his day, but it appeared his day was drawing to a close, at least when it came to his sons.

When Mary Alice couldn't keep her eyes open any longer, Beauregard called a halt to the night. "Do you want me to sit with you till you fall asleep?" Bret asked her, and she smiled at him.

"I'd like that," she answered, followed by, "I'll call you when I'm in bed." In just a few minutes he heard "Bret," and went in to sit by her bedside. He kissed her goodnight, then held her hand and stroked her hair, and in less than five minutes he left her room, closing the door behind him.

"Asleep?" Beau asked, and Bret nodded.

Beauregard started towards his bedroom, and Bret grabbed his arm. "Pa?"

"Yeah, boy?"

"Thanks for tonight."

The father reached out and embraced his son, something he did quite rarely. "You're welcome, Bret." He turned loose of his eldest and continued on to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. Bret stood and stared down the hall at his father's door for long minutes before going into his own room.


	24. The Skin of His Teeth

Chapter 24 – The Skin of His Teeth

The ride into Little Bend on Monday afternoon was even more subdued than the one on Sunday had been. Everyone was well aware of the circumstances and did their best to honor the somber occasion. Bentley brought Beau and Lily Mae to Beauregard's house and followed them into town. George Walker was at the undertakers with his wife Nell and their three daughters, as was Ray Ames and his daughter Susie. Miss Spencer and her fiancée Burt Ellford arrived soon after, and several of Bret and Mary Alice's classmates attended with their parents.

Mary Alice and Bret spent a few minutes alone with her father's remains at Mr. Longstreet's and then the coffin was loaded into the 'hearse wagon' for the trip to the cemetery. It was a solemn procession, with Mary Alice and Bret following the wagon hand-in-hand. Reverend Scott read some from the Bible and said a few words about the departed, and then Beauregard, at Mary Alice's request, talked about Ben in his younger days. The service was concluded by the Reverend with a prayer, and all of those attending except the young sweethearts walked back to town.

Then two of them stood at the new grave for a long time, holding hands tightly, until Mary Alice sighed and turned to her beau. "I can't bring him back and fix things, can I?" she asked with tears in her eyes.

"No, darlin', you can't. But he knew you loved him."

She looked at the graves, her mother and father reunited at last, and whispered, "Goodbye, Daddy," then turned to Bret. "Let's go. I'm ready now."

The walk to town was slow. They met Beauregard and Bart outside of the bank, and Beau handed her a receipt. "Here's your new account. I already deposited your money."

Mary Alice looked at the receipt. "But Beau, this says – "

"Never mind what it says, child. That's your account. If you decided to sell the ranch you've got someplace to put the money."

"But it's too much!" The receipt was for one hundred fifty-seven dollars.

"That's what you gave me, girl." Beauregard stood firm, not willing to acknowledge he hadn't received that much money.

"But – "

"There's no sense arguin' with him, Mary Alice," Bret told her. "If that's what he says you gave him, the story ain't gonna change."

The girl looked at the man in front of her, with the 'hard as nails' reputation, then stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. A big smile broke across his face as she said, "Thank you, Papa Beau."

"Let's go send a wire to your aunt in Vermillionville," Beau advised. "She needs to know what's been happenin' here."

With that done the small group headed back to the ranch. "You goin' back to town tonight, Pappy?" Bart asked when they were almost home.

"No, son, Ben and me's goin' down to Temple. I wanna talk to Hugh Campton, make sure there's nothin' more to the story about Mary Alice's daddy that we missed. We'll go on into Little Bend tomorrow night. Mary Alice, if you want you can stay with Lily Mae over at my brother's house. Her husband's gone again on another cattle drive and she's gonna spend the night. She'll be there tonight an tomorrow night. Choice is yours."

"Thank you, Beauregard. I'll go over there tomorrow when you all are in town. I want to know if you find out anything when you go see Mr. Campton."

"You'll be the first one I tell, I promise. Bart, can you take care of the buggy and saddle my horse for me?"

"Sure, Pappy. I'm meetin' Fred down at the river, that alright with you?"

"Go right ahead, boy. Just be back by dark."

XXXXXXXX

"Hey, Bart, ain't seen you in weeks. Where you been hidin'?" was the first thing Fred asked when Bart rode up and dismounted.

"I been around," came the reply. "Haven't seen you either."

"Spendin' time with Earnie Night since Jaimie Stampers up and left."

"Yeah, what happened? They were gone in an awful hurry."

Fred looked away as he answered, "Don't know. You hear anything?"

Bart and Fred hadn't been friends that long, but Bart could tell Fred knew more than he was willing to admit. "Nothin'. What ain't you tellin' me?"

"You sure you wanna know?"

"Would I have asked you if I didn't?" Sometimes Fred talked in riddles, and it exasperated Bart.

"I know about you kissin' Cora."

"Yeah? So?"

Fred wasn't quite sure how to ask his question. He and Bart had just started to get close when summer began, and they'd sort of drifted apart during time away from school. "You do more than kiss her?"

"What? Why? And no."

"You sure?"

' _Enough of this nonsense,'_ thought Bart. "Yeah, Fred, I'm sure. What ain't you tellin' me?"

"I heard my Ma tellin' my Pa one night . . . . . . "

"FRED!"

"Alright! I heard my Ma one night when they thought I was asleep. Cora's gonna have a baby."

Bart would have gasped if he'd been able to breathe. "She's . . . . . she's . . . . "

"Uh-huh," Fred nodded. "That's what my Ma said."

The boy's mind was racing. _'Oh . . . . my . . . . God.'_ All he could think about was that day in this very spot when they'd both gone skinny dippin'. What if Bret hadn't come along and saved his hide? What if they had . . . . . . .and then Cora said he was the daddy? Before he knew it he was bent over, with his hands on his knees, breathing hard and fast. Then he was lightheaded, and when he stood up straight too quickly he got dizzy and staggered.

He heard Fred's voice like it was off in the distance and underwater. "Hey, Bart, you alright? Bart? What's wrong . . . . . . " The next time he opened his eyes Fred was leaning over him and shaking him by the shoulders. He was flat on the ground and the back of his head hurt. "Bart, man, what happened? You fainted."

"Passed out," Bart mumbled.

"What?"

"Women faint. Men pass out."

"Don't care what you call it. You alright?"

"Sure," he mumbled again and tried to sit up as soon as Fred got out of the way. He was still a little dizzy but not like before. _'Why?'_ he thought, and then he remembered Cora. He'd escaped by the skin of his teeth, and he knew it. He'd been so ashamed and embarrassed when Bret and Mary Alice caught him in the water with Cora. But now . . . . . . Fred was saying something, and Bart wasn't listening.

" . . . . . so I wonder who she was with before she took a shine to you?"

"Uh . . . . . . . "

"You look like you don't feel real good, Bart. You sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, Fred, look, I just remembered, I gotta go. I'll meet ya here tomorrow at noon, okay? Bye." Bart scrambled up on his horse as fast as he could with the slight dizziness that remained. He let out a sigh and they took off at a gallop. He owed his brother a HUGE debt of gratitude and had no idea how he could repay it.


	25. Peace of Mind

Chapter 25 – Peace of Mind

"Thought you were goin' to see Fred," Bret remarked as Bart came running in the front door.

"I did. Can you come outside for a minute?" Mary Alice was reading a book and Bret was sitting there watching her, a smile on his face.

"Sure." He turned to Mary Alice. "I'll be back." He followed Bart out to the porch, closing the front door behind him. "What is it?"

"I know why the Stampers left the valley."

"Okay," Bret drawled. "Why?"

"Cora's gonna . . . . you know, have a baby." Bart turned several shades of red when he told his brother.

"WHAT?"

"You heard me. Don't make me repeat it. Please."

"Who's . . . . . . tell me it ain't yours!"

"It ain't mine. And I can't be accused of it, thanks to you."

"Me? What . . . . . . . oh. Would she have . . . . . a gambler's son?"

"Gambler's son for a husband is better'n no husband at all."

Bret shook his head. "Would she have . . . could she have?"

"I don't know, but thanks to you I don't hafta find out," Bart answered. "I owe you big time, Brother Bret. Anything. Anything at all."

"You sure about that?"

"I'm sure."

Bret draped his arm across Bart's shoulders. "Just remember that when I need a favor."

XXXXXXXX

The horse's head bobbed up and down as Beauregard and Bentley rode back from Temple. It was almost morning and they were both tired. "Glad that's over," Ben remarked.

"Makes two of us," Beau agreed. "At least there's nothin' bad to tell the girl."

"Yeah, she's had enough happen to her. What's she gonna do now?"

Beauregard shook his head. "I don't know. She's got an aunt in Vermillionville we sent a wire to. Just hafta wait and see."

"And if the aunt sends for her? What's gonna happen with Bret?"

They rode a little further before Beau answered. "I don't know, Ben. That's what's got me worried. He's got some fool notion at fifteen that they're 'in love' and you know what happens when boys start thinkin' like that."

Bentley chuckled a little. "Yes, I do, brother dear. I sure remember Emma Slade. You an her's what give Jessie the notion to run off a few years later."

"My God, Emma Slade. I ain't thought about her since the day I laid eyes on Isabelle. That was a long time ago, wasn't it?"

"A lifetime. Least Bret comes by it naturally. The protective, runnin' off part, I mean."

"I can't see . . . . . . well, wait a minute. Maybe I can see my oldest bein' that foolish."

"You didn't think it was foolish at the time," Ben reminded him.

"Thank God Pa had enough sense to track us down."

The younger brother burst out laughing. "That ain't what you said when he did it. I seem to recall the words were more like 'If you stop me from marryin' Emma I'll never give you a moments peace your whole entire life'."

"Your memory's too dang good. An I meant it when I said it."

"I don't think Pa was scared a you, Beauregard."

"Scared? No, Pa weren't scared, that's for sure. Ma mighta been, though."

Ben shook his head. "That's where you're wrong. Ma was too busy cryin' her eyes out that her oldest boy was growin' up too fast and Pa was gonna have to beat the daylights outta you to get you home again."

"No, was she really? Ma acted like she coulda cared less when Pa hauled my sorry butt back to the house."

"Yeah, that's just what it was. Actin'. Just like you been doin' all these years, lettin' everybody think you're a mean ole prickly cactus. I know you, remember? You're the easiest touch in the whole dang town, just nobody knows it. And nobody'd believe me if I told 'em that."

Beau's head bobbed up and down, right along with his horses. "Good. You keep that to yourself. Let 'em all think I'm the meanest son-of-a-gun in the valley. Saved me a lotta grief over the years."

"Belle knew."

"Bless her heart, she's the only one besides you that did. An Jessie. At least Jessie can't do me no harm if she ever decides to spread that rumor. You, on the other hand – "

Ben laughed again. "Nobody'd believe me, anyway. Specially not my nephews. Back to Bret. You keepin' an eye on him? Just in case he gets the same foolish notion?"

"Tryin' to. I don't think I got nothin' to worry about, at least until we hear from Mary Alice's aunt. You hear anything from Beau, you tell me, alright?"

"You know I will. Ain't gonna let somebody level-headed as Bret try to do the same thing his Pa did."

"Thanks, Ben. I owe ya one."

XXXXXXXX

The rooster was crowing as Beauregard walked into the house. Bret was asleep on the settee in the corner, small as it was, and Mary Alice was curled up next to him. _'How in the world could they get into those positions?'_ Beau wondered. His son heard the door close and opened his eyes, and as soon as he saw Beau he reached over and woke Mary Alice. "Pappy?"

"You been sleepin' like that long?" Beau asked as they both sat up.

Bret nodded and yawned. "Since last night."

"I coulda saved you the trouble. Didn't find out nothin' of any consequence from Campton. You both awake enough to hear this?"

"Yes, sir," Bret answered.

Mary Alice nodded.

Beau went to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. "Alright. Your pa was there almost a month, Mary Alice. Hugh had Ben repairin' the barn, buildin' new fences, helpin' with the roof on the house. Said he was sober an steady the whole time. Got along with everybody, never even went into town with the other fellas on Saturday night. Fit right in with the rest of the hands. Campton'd just offered him a steady job an Ben accepted it. Was gettin' ready to ride back up here one Saturday and tell you about it. Left a horse an saddle down there and one of the other men bought it, sent along another twenty dollars for you. Said if you wanted to come down an see things or talk about anything he'd be glad to have ya.

"Seemed to really like your pa. Said all he talked about was you an how he'd acted like a real no-good for a while, an wanted to try an make it up to ya. That's about all, girl. Ben really was tryin' to straighten out."

Mary Alice got up from the settee and walked into the kitchen, where she put her arms around Beauregard. "Thank you, Papa Beau. I'm glad to hear all that. And thanks for going down to Temple to look into it for me. It gives me some peace of mind."


	26. Just the Two of Us

Chapter 26 – Just the Two of Us

Skip, skip, skip, plunk.

Skip, skip, skip, plunk.

Skip, skip, skip, plunk.

"That's as far as I can get it to go," Beau complained. "You try."

So Bart picked up a stone and threw it.

Skip, skip, skip, skip, skip, plunk.

"How'd you do that?"

Bart shrugged. "Don't know. Just did."

"Didn't have nothin' to do with kissin' no girl, did it?"

Bart laughed. "I never said it did."

The two boys were sitting beneath one of the Green Ash trees they'd sat under all summer and attempting to outdo each other with skipping stones across the river. Summer was almost over, and neither one was looking forward to returning to school. They'd done a lot, a full summer with no obligatory cattle drives or summer jobs other than playing poker in town. Bart had made his first contact with a girl and been thoroughly 'kiss' educated by Cora Stampers, who proceeded to spread the word through town that the boy could KISS. The rest of the summer was spent more or less with Jo Walker after Cora and her family left town hurriedly. Beau had dipped his toes into 'girl' territory with Jo's older sister Sally, and while he didn't seem to have his cousin's prowess with his lips, Sally had no complaints.

"So, two more weeks, huh?"

"Yep," Bart answered. "Sure went fast, didn't it?"

"How come it never takes long for summer to go by, but winter drags on forever?" Beau asked, not really expecting an answer.

"That, cousin dear, is the question, ain't it?"

Now what was on both their minds was Bret and Mary Alice. Just that morning before he'd left town, Beauregard had received a telegram from Sarah Gooden, Mary Alice's aunt in Vermillionville. It was not good news for Bret or, for that matter, Mary Alice. Sarah wanted her niece to come live with her in Louisiana, at least until she was older. She promised that summers could be spent in Texas, but that was all.

Bret was already trying to figure a way around it, and both of the boys sitting down by the river were worried, Bart even more so than Beau. "What're they gonna do?"

"I don't know," Bart responded. "But I got a bad feelin' about it, whatever it's gonna be."

XXXXXXXX

Bart had still been asleep when Pappy came home with the unopened telegram. He made a pot of coffee and sat out on the porch, watching the sunrise on one of the last days of summer. He drank coffee and rocked, looking at the envelope it was in when Sammy handed it to him, and waited for Bret and Mary Alice to wake up. He didn't expect it to be good news, and he wouldn't be disappointed.

Sometime around seven o'clock Bret wandered outside, surprised to see his father still awake. Before he could ask why he saw the envelope and shuddered – he had the same feeling Pappy had. "Mary Alice," he called, and the girl walked out rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "Telegram."

Beau handed her the telegram and she sat in the rocker next to him. She spent the next five minutes just looking at the envelope, afraid to open it. When she finally did it only took a minute for the look on her face to go from hopeful to tragic. She said nothing, handing the telegram to Bret. He read it, then folded it back up into its envelope and handed it back to her. "No."

He was calm, quiet, and firm. "You're not goin'." The demeanor would come to serve him well as he got older, but right now it was the last thing Pappy expected.

"Bret - "

"No. Just no."

Tears stood in Mary Alice's eyes, but she was as calm as Bret. "I have to."

"No, you don't. We'll find another way."

This time it was Beauregard that tried. "Bret – "

He turned on his father then, the first time he'd ever done so, and spat out, "NO. I said no." He reached for Mary Alice's hand and gripped it tightly, pulling her out of the rocker and back inside the house with him. Five minutes later Bart came wandering out, still dressed in his nightshirt, rubbing his eyes much the way Mary Alice had.

"What's all the noise about?"

Beau sat for another minute before he said anything. "Mary Alice has to go live with her aunt in Louisiana."

"Oh." Then mere seconds later, "OH."

When Bart went back inside after a few minutes, he could hear Bret and Mary Alice's voices coming from her room, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. Which is what finally led to the discussion between him and Cousin Beau some hours later.

"You think they'll run away?" Beau asked after he tried to skip two more stones across the river and failed miserably with both of them.

"No, he won't . . . . . . well, maybe . . . . . I don't know. I sure hope not. I wouldn't know how to act if it was just me an Pappy . . . . . .

"It's just Pa and me, an we do fine."

"Yeah," Bart started, "but you got Lily Mae. We don't have her, or anybody like her. Do you think he would? Leave, I mean?"

"Depends on whether he loves her or not. Does he?"

"Shoot, I don't know. I don't think he knows. This ain't the way summer was supposed to go."

"That's for sure."

XXXXXXXX

"You can't leave, Mary Alice."

"I have to, Bret. Aunt Sarah wants me in Louisiana."

"But I want you here." He was holding her hand, and he had a tight grip on it.

"She's the only relative I've got, Bret."

"But Mary Alice . . . . . . I . . . . . I love you."

That was new. Bret hadn't told her that before. But what did it change? "You do?"

He turned loose of her and cupped her face in his hands. "Yes, I do. I love you, Mary Alice." He leaned forward and kissed her, and she returned the kiss, then pulled away from him and looked down at her feet.

"I – I love you, too."

He pushed forward. It was clear to him what they had to do to be together. "Will you marry me?"

"Will I . . . . . . yes, Bret, I will. I'll marry you. But how's that going to . . . . . "

"Don't ya see? If we're married, she can't make ya go to Louisiana. You can stay here. We'll be together, an we can figure out where to go from there."

"You're sure?"

He nodded and kissed her again, and a smile spread slowly across his face. "I'm absolutely sure."


	27. I am Fifteen, Going on Sixteen

Chapter 27 – I am Fifteen, Going on Sixteen

It was all in the planning, Bret determined. The planning had to be careful and precise to be effective, and ultimately to succeed. "How are we going to do this?" was the first question Mary Alice asked, and that had started Bret thinking.

Beauregard intended to go back to Claytonville on Tuesday night and stay over until Thursday morning. This trip would be one made alone; Ben declined to go since the main purpose of Beau's trip was to spend more time with Jenny McClaine than at the poker tables. Bret reasoned that they could get up Wednesday morning and ride into Little Bend, get Reverend Scott to marry them, and ride home before anyone was the wiser. All they needed was for Pappy to leave Tuesday evening as planned for Claytonville.

Mary Alice was nervous but agreed to go along with it. She made sure her best dress was ready to be worn, and that Bret had good pants and a shirt clean. The hardest part was staying silent about the plans, which meant telling no one, especially Bart. Bret loved his brother but knew it was too much to expect the thirteen-year-old to keep that big a secret.

Bart could sense something out of the ordinary was in the planning stages, but there was no indication of what it was. He tried questioning his brother but got no truthful answers, and he finally gave up trying. He'd just have to wait and see what was going on.

Their father wasn't born yesterday; having been on Bret's side of this dilemma when he was younger, Beauregard knew better than to leave them all home alone and unsupervised while he was gone. Tuesday evening everyone rode over to Uncle Ben's house; the intention being to remain there until Beau returned. Bret wasn't happy with the turn of events, but he knew better than to reveal his displeasure with the move and divulge the secret arrangements that had to be changed. Beauregard left for Claytonville Tuesday night, as planned, and when Wednesday morning dawned Bret was forced to expose the scheme to his brother.

"Remember that favor you owe me?" he asked Bart after explaining everything to him. "I need ya to do somethin' for me. Ride out with us like we're just goin' to the river. Go on down there and wait for us to come back from town, so's Uncle Ben don't know what's goin' on. We'll pick you up on the way back. Just gotta keep yer mouth shut about where we're goin' and what we're gonna do."

"You're gonna marry her? For real marry her? What happens to all our plans to leave town in a few years?"

"We're still gonna do that," was Bret's response.

"With a wife?"

"Don't worry about it, little brother. We'll work somethin' out. I ain't gonna leave you here to rot in this town, I swear."

"And what about Beau? Ain't he gonna wanna go with us?"

Bret shook his head. "Already checked. Him an Sally Walker's goin' with her Ma an Pa down to Austin today."

"You sure this is the best thing to do?"

"It's the only thing we can do," came Bret's reply. "I can't just let her go to Louisiana, Bart. I couldn't stand it. This way she don't have to."

Bart sighed. He knew better than to try and talk his brother out of something when he'd made up his mind to do it; it was a trait they both shared. 'Maverick stubborn' they would come to call it when they got older. "Alright. But you know what we're both riskin', don't ya?"

"Pappy's never-ending fury, yeah. Don't care. I couldn't stand it if Mary Alice got shipped off to Vermillionville. I love her, Bart. I'd do anything to keep her here."

"When we goin'?"

"Bout eleven o'clock. Be ready. I'll tell Uncle Ben."

The stage was set for the runaway marriage. As long as Ben believed them –

XXXXXXXX

"You got anything planned for today?" Beau asked while they were eating breakfast.

As casually as he could, Bret answered his cousin. "Yeah, me an Bart an Mary Alice is goin' swimmin'. Well, me an Bart's goin' swimmin'. Mary Alice is just comin' along."

"All three of you, huh?" Uncle Ben questioned.

"Yep."

Ben's suspicions were allayed; if Bret and Mary Alice were going to attempt a disappearance they surely wouldn't take Bart with them. "No drownin', okay? Your Pa'd never forgive me."

"I swear, no drownin'. We'll be back for late lunch."

Ben nodded, and Bret was pleased. When time to go came, he and Bart went out to saddle the horses. "You goin' straight to town?" Bart asked.

"Yeah. I think that's best, and Mary Alice agrees. I won't forget you doin' this for us, Bart."

"You just make sure you keep yer word and get us outta this town when the time comes."

The older brother nodded. "I won't forget."

They led the animals out of the barn and Mary Alice joined them. "We all ready to go?" she asked, and Bret helped her mount. The trip to the river was accompanied by dead silence; all three were aware of the enormity of Bret and Mary Alice's actions.

"We'll come back for ya soon as we're done," Bret promised his brother as Bart dismounted.

"You better."

Bart watched as the two fifteen-year-olds rode away. "Protect 'em, Lord. Please?"

XXXXXXXX

Bret and Mary Alice rode to the First Church of Little Bend looking for Reverend Scott, but he wasn't there. Next they went to his house, on the other side of the church grounds, and knocked at the door. The Reverend was surprised to see them but ushered them inside. "What can I do for you two this beautiful summer day?" he asked, never expecting the answer he received from Bret.

"You can marry us, Reverend."

Mary Alice nodded.

"I can . . . . . . . follow me, you two." He led them through the small house and into the kitchen. "Either of you want some coffee?" Mary Alice and Bret both shook their heads 'no.' "Have a seat, both of you." Reverend Scott pointed to the chairs around the table and they sat down. "Now what is this about marrying you?"

"I want . . . . we want to get married," Bret answered.

"Right now?"

"Yes, sir. Right now."

"Is there a motive for this hurry?" was the next question posed by the preacher. He knew Mary Alice well enough to believe she would never do anything that forced her to get married. And Bret seemed to be a fine, moral young man, even if he did have Beauregard for a father. _'So just what was going on?'_ he wondered.

There was indeed a reason, but not the one worried about. "My Aunt Sarah wants me to come live with her in Louisiana," Mary Alice replied, and their purpose was clear.

"And you don't want to go, is that right?"

"Yes, sir."

"How old are you, Mary Alice?"

"Fifteen."

"And you, Bret?"

"Fifteen."

He looked from the girl to the boy. "And where is your father, young man?"

"Uh . . . . . he's out of town right now."

Reverend Scott shook his head. "I can't do it, son."

"Why not?" the question came from both of them at once.

"I'm fifteen," Mary Alice reminded him.

"You are the not the problem, Miss Tompkins. Young Mr. Maverick here is."

Bret's face took on a puzzled expression. "Why? I'm over fifteen."

"Ah, but you are not yet sixteen, is that correct?" The young man's head nodded up and down. "See, that's the issue here. Young women can get married without their parents' consent at age fourteen. Young men must be sixteen. Without your father here to give his approval my hands are tied."

Bret swallowed. "Are you serious?"

The preacher nodded. "Oh, yes, I'm afraid I am. Very serious."

"But . . . . but we want to get married."

"And I would be glad to marry you. But I can't. Not without your father, Bret. If only you were sixteen."

Something in Bret's eyes lit up, and he had a question to ask. "So if I'd been sixteen . . . . . . "

"I could have married you."

Bret jumped to his feet and grabbed Mary Alice's hand. "Thank you, Reverend Scott. Thank you." He practically ran back through the house, pulling the girl with him.

"Now what?" the preacher asked of no one in particular.


	28. Sterling Subterfuge

Chapter 28 – Sterling Subterfuge

Bart was torn. It seemed like they'd been gone forever, and it seemed like they just left. So he finally allowed himself to breathe when he saw Bret and Mary Alice approaching, coming from Little Bend. If they were married, they certainly didn't look happy about it. "What's wrong?"

Bret was angry but subdued. "He wouldn't marry us."

"Who? Reverend Scott? Why not?"

"It's my fault. It's my fault! I either have to be sixteen or have my father with me to give permission."

"What are you gonna do?"

Bret jumped down off Solomon and helped Mary Alice down from Nanny. "What are we gonna do? I been thinkin' about that. I gotta get us outta this town. And tell the preacher in the next town I'm sixteen. What are they gonna do after we're married? What's the closest town besides Claytonville?"

Bart thought for a minute. "Probably Sterling."

"That's just a little hole in the wall," Mary Alice told them.

"But it's got a church, and a full-time preacher," Bart reminded them.

Bret's face lit up. "He's right. We'll go there."

"Now?" Mary Alice questioned.

"No," her 'fiancée' answered. "Tomorrow. When Pappy gets back from Claytonville. He'll come by here and gather us all up like the chickens we keep in the coop. Then when we get home he'll go to sleep. And we can ride to Sterling and get married."

"Can we take the buggy so I can wear my dress?"

"Yes, ma'am. We can do that."

"What about me?" Bart asked.

"What about you?" Bret countered with.

"If you're gettin' married in Sterling, I wanna be there."

"Bart, I . . . . . . we can't take you. If Pappy gets up for some reason and we're all gone . . . . . I'm sorry."

Bart was downcast but didn't say anything. After a few minutes, the three conspirators headed back to Bentley's house. They didn't see Lily Mae peeking out the window in the front room as they rode up. "They're back," she called to Bentley, and he came down the stairs to stand next to her at the window.

"All three?" he asked.

"All three of 'em," she answered.

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God. Beauregard would never forgive me if they'd actually run off on my watch."

"They've got somethin' planned," Lily Mae assured him. "I just don't know what it is."

"You're imagining things, Lily," Ben told her as he walked into the kitchen.

"Hide and watch," Lily muttered under her breath. She scurried out into the kitchen to avoid being caught snooping.

Ben stuck his head out of the pantry as if he'd been busily looking for something. "You're back. Have a good afternoon?"

"Sure, Uncle Ben," Bret answered, trying to sound as calm and happy as he would normally. "You still up?"

"Nope," Ben responded. "Up again. Just couldn't stay asleep. Anybody want lunch?"

All three heads nodded, and Lily Mae just laughed. Whatever they were planning, it hadn't affected their appetites.

XXXXXXXX

Beauregard cut his visit to Claytonville short and came home Wednesday evening. He and Jenny agreed that he wasn't the best of company, since his mind was on his sons and not on her. He collected his 'brood' from Ben's house and headed home, causing Bret and Mary Alice no end of concern about their Thursday trip to Sterling.

Bart suggested the three Maverick men make the sojourn to Little Bend one final time before he returned to school in a week, and Bret and Beau readily agreed. It was the last time Beauregard would ride into town with both his sons and, unbeknownst to either of them, the last time he and Bret would play poker together for long months.

Beau couldn't concentrate on his game once they were in the LB Bar and kept stealing glances at his oldest son to see if he could detect anything out of the ordinary. Bret was well aware he was being watched by his father and stayed as calm and steady as he could. That night was the first time Pappy learned what an excellent poker face his first born actually had. The Maverick patriarch saw nothing that indicated there was anything more sinister than poker residing in Bret's psyche.

They played until almost sunup, and Beauregard was fortunate to break even. Bret won nearly a hundred dollars and Bart, just as distracted as his father but for the opposite reason, came out just a few dollars ahead. When the games finally disintegrated or fell apart, all three were ready to call it a night. "Breakfast, boys?" Beauregard asked.

"Sure, Pappy," Bart answered before Bret had a chance to say no.

They went and ate breakfast, with Bret doing his best to act normal. With little conversation they were done in practically no time and on their way home. Bret was as nervous as a cat but tried his best to keep his poker face, and Beauregard suspected nothing out of the ordinary.

When they got home, Mary Alice was in bed asleep and Bret and Bart went off to their room to do the same. Bret, of course, had no interest in sleeping and sat on his bed for almost thirty minutes waiting for Pappy to fall asleep. Bart sat up with him, and they talked about the days when they'd played poker after Momma went to bed, letting her think they were slumbering. Bret finally decided to take the chance that Pappy was past hearing him and crept in to wake Mary Alice. He found her awake and dressed, and they stood in her room and held each other tightly while listening to their hearts pound.

They made their way in silence out of the house and into the barn and found Bart hitching one of the horses up to the buggy. Bret helped Mary Alice into the buggy and turned to his brother, who stood staring up at him. Tears ran down Bart's face and he and Bret hugged tightly; then the older brother climbed into the buggy and drove quietly out of the barn, through the open gate of the corral and down the road towards Sterling. Bart closed the barn door behind him and watched the road until they'd disappeared from sight. The next time he saw his brother, Bret would be a married man.


	29. Mrs Maverick

Chapter 29 – Mrs. Maverick

It took almost two hours to get to Sterling, but in spite of the fact that he hadn't slept last night Bret wasn't the least bit tired. He wasn't sure if he or Mary Alice was the most excited; he was positive that he was the most frightened. No matter the emotions he was feeling, he was convinced they were doing the right thing. Much later in his life, Bret Maverick would remember that he was so certain of that.

He drove the buggy with one hand and held Mary Alice's hand with the other. She smiled brightly the entire trip to Sterling, and he took comfort from that fact. He'd come close to breaking his little brother's heart and he was sure that Pappy would disown him at the very least, but her mere presence kept him externally calm.

Mary Alice had been right about one thing – Sterling was not much more than a hole in the wall. There was a saloon, and a livery, a telegraph office, a small café, and a bank. And at the very end of what passed as a street there was a small church. The sign outside read 'Sterling Baptist Church' and Bret pulled the buggy to a halt in front of it. "You alright?" he asked Mary Alice.

She nodded, and replied, "You still want to do this?"

He found his voice, and it sounded firm and strong, "Yes, Mary Alice, I do." He climbed down out of the buggy and walked around to help her out; she felt so lightweight in his arms. He glanced at the sign and saw the words 'Reverend Jackson Streeter, Pastor,' and led the girl by the hand up to the front door, which was unlocked. They entered, the boy on-the-verge of manhood in the lead; if was cool and dim inside. Bret hesitated a moment, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, then led his intended up the aisle. As they approached the small altar a man emerged from the shadows and looked towards them.

"Reverend Streeter?" Bret questioned.

"Yes, son, what can I do for you?" The voice was deep and resonant, belying the youth of the man standing in front of them.

"We came . . . . . we came to get married, sir. Will you do that for us?"

XXXXXXXX

Bart closed the gate to the corral when the buggy was out of sight. He'd never felt this sad and lonely, not since the day he realized what the words "Momma's gone" meant. While he was up he took care of the chores; the cow, the chickens, the horses, all got his full attention this morning. Anything to keep from going back to the house. Pappy was asleep; the rest of the place was silent and empty. No Mary Alice, with her funny-sounding girl giggle; no Bret, his brother and father all rolled up into one, who'd been there from the day he was born. He wanted to go with them, to be there when they got married, but he understood the rationale for staying put. He wasn't happy about it, but he understood.

At last he could delay it no longer, and he walked back inside the only place he'd ever known as home. It was cool inside, and still dimly lit, and he wandered into what had always been their bedroom. No more, he realized with a start – he'd have to trade rooms with Mary Alice. No more poker games when one of them couldn't sleep, or talks in the dark about where they were going when they left Texas, or immediate comfort when he woke from a nightmare. He didn't want it to, but his life was about to change drastically.

Without giving it more than a passing thought, he climbed into Bret's bed. How many times had he crawled in with his brother during a thunderstorm? Or after a bad dream? No more. The dynamic between the brothers was changing forever, and he was more miserable than he had ever thought possible. He scrambled under the covers and pulled them up to his chin. Slowly the tears made their way into the daylight, and he cried himself silently to sleep.

XXXXXXXX

"Certainly I can do that, Mr. – "

"Maverick. Bret Maverick. This is Mary Alice Tompkins. We'd like you to marry us, Pastor."

"Is there a reason for this marriage, Mr. Maverick?" Reverend Streeter asked.

Bret nodded. "We love each other and we wanna be together."

"No, I mean . . . . . . "

"Oh, no!" Mary Alice jumped in. "No, not that kind of reason."

"No, sir, we haven't . . . . . . I mean, we don't . . . . . . no!"

Reverend Streeter laughed. "Alright, sorry, I had to ask. No offense meant. How old are you two? Mr. Maverick?"

"Sixteen, Reverend."

"Miss Tompkins?"

"Fifteen, sir."

"Did you bring anyone with you?" He saw the confusion in their eyes. "As a witness, I mean?" Two heads shook 'no.' "Alright, then I'll ask my wife to witness the marriage, if that's alright with you two." He took three steps back the way he'd come and opened a door. "Emmaline, could you come here, please?" he called.

In just a moment a sweet-faced woman of about twenty-five came hurrying in. She smiled at the two visitors and looked at the Pastor. "Yes, Jackson?"

"Emmaline, Mr. Maverick and Miss Tompkins have come to be married. Would you be so kind to serve as a witness for them, please?"

Her smile grew even bigger if that was possible. "Certainly, my dear. You two come right over here while Jackson gets out his Bible. You stand here, Mr. Maverick," she moved Bret to the right, slightly, "and you here, Miss Tompkins."

Reverend Jackson reappeared, Bible in hand. "Are we ready?" he asked.

Bret looked at Mary Alice, and she smiled. He gripped her hand tightly and turned back to the Reverend. "We're ready."

XXXXXXXX

Somebody was shaking him, urgently. Through a fog he heard something and slowly realized it was his name. "Bart, Bart, son, wake up. Bart, it's Pappy, wake up. Bartley, wake up."

"Huh?"

"Bart, wake up. That's it, open your eyes. Look at me. It's your father. Bart, where's your brother? Bartley, where's Bret?"

Beauregard had gotten up for a drink of water and wandered around the house for some reason. The boys' door wasn't closed and he looked in the room as he had on many other occasions and saw that only one bed was occupied. Somehow he failed to believe that Bart was up and doing chores while Bret slept, and just to prove himself right he pulled the covers down on the body in the bed. That's when he discovered Bart sleeping in his brother's bed and began trying to wake the boy up.

In desperation, Pappy grabbed his youngest by the shoulders and shook him awake. "Bartley Jamison, wake up and answer me. Where's your brother?"

Bart attempted to rub the sleep out of his eyes and finally understood enough to mumble an answer of sorts. "Gone, Pappy. Bret's gone."

"What do you mean, gone?" Beauregard was finally wide awake himself, and let go of Bart. He hurried as fast as he could, back out of the room and down the hall. Without knocking, he opened Mary Alice's door and discovered her bed totally empty. They were gone, just as he'd feared. He rushed back to the boys' room and tried again with his youngest.

"Bart, where did they go? Where are Bret and Mary Alice?"

"Went . . . . married . . . . ." Bart mumbled, and Beau pulled him upright in bed. His eyes flew open and he looked right into his father's, which had gone coal black.

"WHERE ARE THEY?" Pappy practically shouted, and he could feel Bart tremble.

His son's mouth opened but it took a minute for any kind of sound to come out. When it finally did, it was little more than a squeak. "Sterling. They went to Sterling."

"WHY?" Beauregard was at the end of his rope when he heard the words he most feared.

"To get married."

XXXXXXXX

". . . . . I now pronounce you man and wife." The two teenagers stood there in shock. "You can kiss your bride, son," Reverend Streeter told Bret, who gathered his 'wife' into his arms and did just that. When they separated the Preacher and his wife congratulated them, Emmaline hugging both the bride and groom. "It'll take me just a minute to fill out this paper," he told Bret, who reached into his pocket for his wallet.

"No, no, put that away. You don't have to do that," the Reverend protested as Bret tried to give him money for performing the ceremony.

"Yes, sir, please take this," Bret insisted. Reluctantly the Preacher did so.

"I need your full name, son," Jackson Streeter told Bret.

"Breton Joseph Maverick," came the reply.

"And yours, too, Mrs. Maverick."

"Mary Alice Tompkins Maverick," the new bride answered.

Reverend Streeter filled out the marriage certificate, signed it and had the newly married couple sign it. Then Emmaline Streeter signed as a witness, and he presented it to Bret. "Here's your official document. Good luck to the two of you, and may God Bless you and your marriage."

"Thank you, Reverend," Bret replied as he shook the Pastor's hand. "Mrs. Streeter."

The Reverend put his arm around his wife as they watched the new groom help the new bride into the buggy. "What do you think, Emmaline?"

"I think they're in love, Jackson."

"I hope it lasts."

"From your lips to God's ears," his wife answered.

XXXXXXXX

Beauregard let go of his son's shoulders and staggered backward. " . . . . . . To get married," he repeated in a whisper. "When?"

"This mornin'. About seven. What time is it?"

"What?" Beau asked. "Uh, sometime after twelve," he pronounced. It was too late. If they'd left for Sterling around seven o'clock, they were long since married. "Why? Why, Bart?" Beauregard sank down on Bart's bed and sat there, practically limp.

Bart sat up in Bret's bed, staring at his father. Beauregard had a look on his face that his son had never seen before. It was a mixture of desperation, sadness, and despair. "Pappy? Are you alright?"

"Yes," came the whispered reply. Then he cleared his throat and shook his head, and the look changed to one of resignation and anger. "Yes," he answered again, "I'm fine. Why didn't you tell me, boy?"

"I . . . . uh, I . . . . I couldn't."

The look softened somewhat, and so did the voice. "I ain't blamin' you, son. It ain't your fault."

The breath that Bart had been holding came out in a rush. Before he could say anything else a horse whinnied outside, and Beauregard practically launched himself off the bed and out of the room. Bart scrambled out of bed to follow him, fearful of what Pappy might do if it was Bret and Mary Alice. Beau grabbed the door and pulled it open and then gave a grunt when he realized it wasn't his son, but rather his brother. "Bentley," he practically spit out. "What is it?"

Ben climbed down off his horse and tied her to the hitching rail. He recognized the look on Beau's face. It was a look that had withered many a man who'd been intent on accusing the older gambler of doing something 'unethical.' The fact that it was spread across the face of his brother right now told him all he needed to know. "Where'd they go?"

"Sterling," came the reply, in a voice that had alarmed those not frightened enough by the look.

"Why?" Ben had heard the voice and seen the face before, but not in a long time.

"To get married."


	30. The Depths of Despair

Chapter 30 – The Depths of Despair

"Do you feel different?"

"No."

"Neither do I."

Bret shook his head. "Married. Who woulda thought?"

"You're not sorry, are you?" his new wife asked.

"Nope. Not a bit."

"What's your father going to do?"

"I . . . . . . not much he can do, is there?"

Mary Alice giggled. "No."

"Then don't worry about it. I'm not going to."

They drove on in silence for a few minutes. Then Mary Alice spoke again. "He's going to be mad, isn't he?"

"To say the least."

"Will he throw us out?"

"I don't think so," Bret answered. "What good would that do? We'd just go live at your ranch."

"What about Bart?"

"Yeah, Bart. I been thinkin' about Bart. I don't think he could stay with Pappy by himself. "

"If we have to move, he could come live with us."

Bret was surprised. "Would you want him to?"

"Why not? But he would have to help with chores around the place."

Bret broke into gales of laughter. "Oh, I can just see that. Do you think he'd stay in school?"

"Why wouldn't he?" Mary Alice asked. "He's too young to do anything else."

Bret changed the subject again. "We'll be home in a few minutes. Are you ready?"

"I think so. Do I look alright?"

"You're beautiful, Mrs. Maverick."

"Mrs. Maverick. I like the sound of that."

"So do I," her husband answered.

XXXXXXXX

Beauregard had settled down some, and he and Bentley were sitting at the table drinking coffee. It was so quiet they could hear Bart mumbling to himself in the bedroom. "Okay . . . . small straight there . . . . King high flush . . . . full house won't work . . . . gotta move that ace . . . . . "

Beauregard let just the beginnings of a smile touch the corners of his mouth. "Maverick Solitaire," he told Ben. At least one of his boys was thinking about the right thing. They listened to Bart talk to the cards for a few more minutes and then Ben asked a question.

"What are ya gonna do when Bret comes home?"

"You mean if he comes home, don't ya?"

"Where else . . . . . oh," Ben finished, remembering the Tompkins Ranch. "Do ya think they'd go there?"

Beau shook his head slowly. "I hope not. But I don't know what they're liable to do anymore."

"Back to the question. What are ya gonna do with the kids?"

"Honest to God, Ben, I don't know. Better than Pa did with me and Emma, I hope. I'm really . . . . . really not sure what'll work. Leave 'em be and wait ta see how long it takes 'em to sink? Beat the two of 'em until they bleed? Send Mary Alice to Vermillionville and chain Bret in his room? What am I supposed to do? You got any ideas?"

Ben got up and retrieved the coffee pot, pouring fresh cups for both of them while he thought. "How'd they figure a way to get married, anyway?"

"Huh? What does that mean?"

"Boys gotta be sixteen to get married without permission."

"So?" Beau scratched his head. "What difference does that make?"

"You give him permission?"

"You know I didn't."

"So how'd they get married?"

Beau rested his chin in his hand. It took a minute but he finally came up with the answer. "Lied about his age."

"And what does that do?"

"Makes the marriage illegal?!"

"See how easy that was?"

Beauregard couldn't help it. He chuckled just a little. "You devious old schemer . . . . . . now if it was just that easy to tell 'em."

"Ain't neither one of 'em gonna be happy about it."

"No, but they won't be married, either. Both of 'em's too young, and you an me know it. Just wish they did."

Ben had one more piece of information to offer. "If it gets too bad – between you an Bret, I mean – he can come over and stay at my house for a while."

Beau's head nodded. "Thanks, Ben. I think it might. He comes by that stubbornness naturally."

"You think that's somethin' I don't know?"

Ben's horse whinnied, and the buggy could be heard out front of the house. "You ready?" Ben asked.

"As I'll ever be," came Beauregard's reply, and the brothers rose and went to the front door. Beau pulled it open while Bret helped Mary Alice down from her seat.

Nobody said a word as the newlyweds walked up onto the porch. Ben backed up into the room so Beau could move aside and let them in the house. Bart stood in the doorway to the boy's room and watched the surreal entrance. Bret and Mary Alice walked into the front room and sat down on the settee before words were finally spoken.

"Pappy. Uncle Ben. Mary Alice and me got married in Sterling this morning. Here's the certificate we got from the preacher." Bret offered the piece of paper to his father, who took it and looked it over carefully. After seeming to exam every square inch of the document, Beau prepared for the second most difficult thing he'd ever had to do.

"This your signature, Bret?" The boy nodded. "Everything on here just like you told the preacher?" Bret nodded again. "You know this is a legal document?" A third nod served as the answer. "And that everything on here needs to be correct for it to be bindin'?" There was no nod this time, just a look of sheer terror as the truth slowly dawned on him.

"Wh-wh-wh-what?"

"This paper don't mean nothin' if everythin' on it ain't the Gospel truth."

"It don't?"

Beau's voice was calm and steady, and full of understanding and sympathy. Not at all what his oldest son expected. Ben hadn't made a sound, but Bart could be heard sucking in his breath as the truth became evident to the 'little' brother.

Pappy finally spoke again, after looking once more at the paper in his hands. "Says here you're sixteen. You had a birthday I don't know about?"

Mary Alice and Bret stared at each other, and the girl gripped the boy's hand tightly. What had started as a slightly intimidating day and turned into a beautiful one was rapidly becoming dark and frightening. "N-n-n-n-n-no."

"Reverend – " Beau looked down at the certificate once more – "Reverend Streeter get it wrong? You tell him fifteen and he wrote sixteen?"

They were sunk, and Bret knew it. He sat and waited for the inevitable conclusion, the one that hadn't crossed his mind until now. And Beau didn't fail him, but there was no malice or triumph in the sound of the words.

"You and Mary Alice ain't legally married, boy."


	31. A Drop of Reasoning

Chapter 31 – A Drop of Reasoning

Nobody moved, nobody spoke, nobody even breathed until Bret finally looked up at his father, with just a glistening of tears beginning in his eyes. "We ain't?"

"No, son, you ain't."

"But we – we – I mean, we – " Mary Alice stuttered.

"We are married, Pappy. We said the words an everything. We wanna be married. Can't ya just leave it alone?"

Beauregard cast his eyes downward and grimaced. He knew how much this was hurting his firstborn – he'd been through something similar at the same age. But he had to push everything to its honest and truthful conclusion, no matter how painful. He heaved a sigh and looked his son in the eyes. "I can't, boy. You need to face the truth. You and Mary Alice ain't married."

Mary Alice began to cry and tried to protest one more time. "We are. We are so. Leave us alone, we love each other. I'm his wife. I'm his wife. I'm . . . . . . "

Bret shook his head and interrupted her. "It's no use, Mary Alice. He's right. We ain't married."

Bart was so happy he almost jumped out of his skin. He wanted to shout at the top of his lungs but thought better of it when he took a long, hard look at his brother's face. How could you be in that much pain just because you've been told you're not married? He gripped the doorway to their room tightly, wanting to run to his brother and throw his arms around Bret's neck, but forced himself to stand still. He didn't really think he could make Bret feel any better right now, anyway.

The girl couldn't stand anymore and jumped to her feet, turning loose of her 'husband's' hand and running from the room. They all heard the door to her room slam, and the sound of her weeping permeated everything. Bret ran after her, leaving nothing but desolation in his wake. Beauregard watched his son go and saw his youngest in the doorway. "Bart, go on back in your room and close the door. You ain't involved in this. I'll come in when it's all settled." Maverick the younger knew that tone of voice well and wasn't inclined to argue. He disappeared and the door closed behind him.

Pappy looked at his brother, who was still standing quietly in the corner, Beau's eyes pleading for any kind of affirmation that he'd done the right thing. Ben's head nodded up and down. "Much better than Pa," he acknowledged, but added as a reminder, "It ain't over yet."

"I was afraid of that," Beau responded.

XXXXXXXX

There was nothing Bret could do to calm Mary Alice's tears so he didn't try; he sat and held her while she wept. He felt like doing the same thing himself. All his clever plotting and planning for nothing. They were going to be forced to spend nine months hundreds of miles apart – him in Texas, her in Louisiana. He needed to come up with a plan – a better plan, one that would actually work. Right now his mind was blank; the only thing he could think of was holding the girl he loved until she'd cried herself out. The tears slowed down, then stopped altogether. Mary Alice mumbled something and he asked her to say it louder.

"Mrs. Maverick," she finally repeated. "I'm Mrs. Maverick. I don't care what Beauregard says. We got married."

"I know we did, honey, but Pappy's right. I just didn't wanna see it. There's gotta be a way around it. Just gimme a while and I'll figure it out."

"Let's just – let's just run away. They can't keep us apart if they can't find us."

Bret nodded. "We can do that, but I'd have to leave Bart here with Pappy. There's gotta be another way." Bret was quiet for a minute, still holding Mary Alice and rocking her like he would a child, when it came to him. "I'll talk to him. Man to man. See if I can convince him to give permission."

"You heard him. He won't do it."

"I can try," Bret announced.

"What if that doesn't work?"

"I'll think of somethin'."

"Bret?"

"Hmmm?" She was still in his arms, and she twisted around until they were face to face.

"I love you. I never really told you, but I love you."

"I know you do, Mary Alice."

"I've got an idea."

He ran his hands through her hair and pulled her face to within a few inches of his. "So do I." And he kissed her.

"That's it. My idea, I mean. What if we, well, what if we . . . . . . I mean, we were married. If we did that, they'd have to let us, wouldn't they?"

Bret sat back and looked at her. Was she suggesting what he thought she was suggesting? "Do you mean we should . . . . . . ?"

"Yes," she answered firmly. "That's exactly what I mean."

"Would you . . . . I mean, could you . . . . . "

"Yes. We're married. We've got a piece of paper that says we are. Wait, where is it?"

Bret realized he'd left the certificate in Pappy's hands. "I'll go get it."

XXXXXXXX

Beau set the worthless certificate on the table while he made a fresh pot of coffee. He watched his brother Ben, who was leaning against the wall. He was thankful that Bentley had shown up when he did. Otherwise, the infamous Beauregard Maverick temper might have succeeded in alienating his oldest son before they ever had a chance to work things out peacefully. Not that he thought the fight was over; it had barely begun.

"Beau, you okay?" he heard and turned towards the question.

"So far, thanks to you."

Ben chuckled. "Me? I ain't done nothin' but point out the obvious."

"An kept me from drivin' Bret an myself to drink. You're handy to have around."

"You an me both learned a long time ago we ain't nothin' without family."

Unexpectedly Bret came striding out into the kitchen, saw the certificate proving his 'marriage' on the table, picked it up and went back to Mary Alice's room.

"Whatta you suppose that was?" Beau asked.

"Who knows? Mebbe they just wanna keep it."

Beau walked down the hall to Mary Alice's room and knocked on the door. "Bret?"

"I'll be out in a minute," his son answered. Beauregard made his way back to his brother and coffee. Several minutes later Bret came back out, closing the door behind him, and followed his father's path into the kitchen. "I'd like to sit down and talk about this, Pa."

"Alright," Beau answered, all the while thinking _'ain't nothin' to talk about.'_

"Do you want me to leave?" Ben asked.

"No, sir, I wish you'd stay," came Bret's reply. All three took seats at the kitchen table as Beau poured coffee for him and Ben. Bret got up and opened the pantry, looking for a cup. When he found one he sat back down and poured a cup of coffee for himself. "I'd like to talk to you man to man."

Beau took a swallow of coffee and nodded. "I'm listenin'."

Bret took his own swallow of coffee and held his cup up for a minute. His hand was shaking but his voice was steady. "I know you think we're too young to be married. We're not, Pa. I love Mary Alice, and she loves me. I can support us by playin' poker, and we've both got some money saved. Mary Alice is gonna get paid for helpin' Miss Spencer at the school while she learns teachin'. We can live here so I can still spend time with Bart or we can live at the Tompkins Ranch. Bart can live with us if he wants, as long as he goes to school and does his share of chores. We deserve a chance, Pa. I want you to give me your permission to get married legally."

Bret had tugged on Beauregard's heartstrings, and he knew it. Very rarely did either of the boys call him Pa; usually it was Pappy, and for some reason he had a soft spot for 'Pa.' But that didn't change what Bret was asking him to do. And just like his father before him, the answer had to be 'no.'

"Son, I never told you this, but I was exactly where you are at your age, so I know what yer goin' through. Your uncle can tell you all about me and Emma Slade. And I have to tell ya exactly what my Pa told me. Whether you think so or not, fifteen is too dang young to get married. No matter how much ya love each other. I'm not tellin' ya not to marry the girl, I'm just tellin' ya not to marry her now. Let her go to Louisiana and live with her aunt. Write letters to each other. Save your money. Next summer, she'll come back to Little Bend. A lot can change in a year. See how ya feel about each other then. Just give it some time before ya make a commitment like that. I just can't let ya marry her now. No matter how much ya beg."

Bret sat there for five minutes or more, drinking his coffee silently. He knew it was a longshot when he tried reasoning with Pappy, but he doubted if Beau had paid any attention to his words and the rationale behind them. Maybe Mary Alice was right. Maybe they should just . . . . . . . what was Pappy gonna do after they . . . . . he couldn't even bring himself to think of what Mary Alice had proposed. But if they did, Pappy would have to give permission, wouldn't he? And God knows he wanted to. He wanted to hold her, and kiss her, and love her, and not do the 'right' or 'moral' thing. He wanted to do whatever it took to keep her there by his side. He finished his coffee and set the empty cup on the table.

Alright, if Mary Alice still wanted to . . . . . he certainly did, too. He said nothing, just got up from the table and pushed his chair underneath it. Then he walked back to his 'wife's' room and closed the door behind him.


	32. The Wrong Choice

Chapter 32 – The Wrong Choice

"I don't like it, Ben. They're too quiet. I got an ugly feelin' they're plannin' somethin.' I ain't never known Bret to give up that easy when he thinks he wants somethin'."

"Not much you can do now, Beau, 'cept wait an see. You gonna talk to Bart?"

"Yeah, I guess I better. No need to have both of 'em hatin' me."

Beau got up from the table slowly, feeling every one of his years, and walked to the boys' door. He knocked softly and Bart's voice called, "Come in, Pappy."

"You got it figured out yet?" Beau asked, looking at the five piles of cards on the floor.

Bart shook his head sadly. "I'm stuck on this one." He pointed to one of the piles.

"Want me to look?"

"Sure," came the answer.

Beauregard got himself down on the floor and analyzed Bart's cards. He studied them for a minute and then pointed to the first stack. "Move that seven over to the second stack, and take the King and trade places with that Ace you don't know what to do with."

Bart did as Pappy suggested and a big grin broke out on his face. "Thanks, Pappy!"

"You got any questions you wanna ask me, son?"

Bart thought for a minute before responding. "Why do they wanna get married so bad?"

"That's a good question. Mary Alice's aunt wants her to come live in Louisiana. Bret doesn't want her to go. They think if they're married they can stay here in Texas, together."

"But why do they hafta be together?"

"They don't hafta be, they just wanna be."

"Why do boys wanna be with girls?"

"That's another good question. The best answer I can give ya ain't gonna make much sense till you're older. But here it is for ya now – there's a lot of pleasure to be derived from bein' with a girl, pleasure you'll learn to appreciate."

With a bit of disgust in his voice, Bart asked the next question. "When I'm older?"

Beau smiled and nodded. "Yeah, when yer older."

"How much older? Bret's only fifteen, and he must appreciate it."

"I certainly hope not," Beauregard muttered. And the longer he thought about it, the more it bothered him. Bret had seemed to give up too quickly when Pappy refused to grant consent to the marriage. What if he and Mary Alice were thinking – no, they wouldn't, would they? What if they thought they could force permission? How would they do that?

Suddenly the answer was crystal clear and Pappy pulled himself up from the floor. "I gotta go do somethin', Bart, I'll be back later. Stay in here for a while longer, would ya?"

"Sure," Bart answered, and gathered up his cards to start another round of Maverick Solitaire. Beau hurried from the room, back out to Ben, who was still in the kitchen.

"Have either one of 'em come outta her room?" he asked his brother.

"Nope. Why? What're you thinkin'?"

"Somethin' I don't wanna think," Beau answered carefully. "What if they're in there . . . . . . . "

"Would Bret do that? With you right here?"

"I don't know, Ben. But I'm gonna find out." Beauregard turned and practically ran to Mary Alice's door, which was still closed. He listened carefully but heard nothing for a minute or two. Then a sound . . . a noise that almost sounded like a moan . . . . and Beau was willing to wait no longer.

He flung the door open to a sight that made him almost retch . . . his boy, his perfect son . . . . his firstborn . . . . with his shirt off and his jeans on the floor of the room . . . . . and the girl wrapped in his arms while they kissed, her dressed in just her bloomers and a chemise. Beau caught his breath and gasped, and the two bodies on the bed heard him and broke apart, shocked to see him at the door. "Bret," he choked out, then forced more words from his mouth. "Get. Out."

Bret and Mary Alice were frozen in stunned silence. When they didn't move Beau shouted "OUT! NOW!" and the sight of Ben standing behind his father propelled Bret forward, finally. He rolled off the bed, grabbed his clothes from the floor, and ran. Past his uncle and father, across the hall and into his bedroom. The door slammed shut.

Mary Alice shrieked and pulled the blanket up over her head. Beau hesitated a moment and then pushed past his brother and threw the door to the boys' room open just as Bret finished buttoning his shirt. "What the hell was you doin'?" he yelled at his oldest. "Did you think I'd let you get married if you slept with the girl?!"

Bret had never seen Pappy this angry, but he didn't shrink from the ranting lunatic that stood before him dressed as his father. "Yes, we did."

Bart cowered in the corner of the room, terrified that Beau was going to hit his brother. When it looked like Pappy was raising his hand to do just that Bart sprang forward and threw his arms around Beauregard. "No, Pa! Don't hurt him!"

Beau hugged his youngest son to him. "I'm not gonna hurt him!" he ground out through clenched teeth. He glared at Bret. "You stay here." Then he looked back at Bart, and his expression and voice softened a bit. "Come with me, Bartley."

Bart, still clinging tightly to Pappy, went with him back into the hall, back to where Ben was standing. "Let go of me, son," he told Bart and turned to Bentley. "Keep him here a minute, would ya? I gotta talk to Mary Alice."

Ben nodded and helped pry Bart away from Beau, wrapping him up in an embrace so that Bart couldn't follow. Beauregard knocked on her door and heard a soft "Come in," and went into the room. Mary Alice had the blanket pulled up to her chin with big tears running down her face. He dragged the chair over from the corner of the room and turned it around, sitting in it backwards and resting his chin on his hands on the top of the back rail.

"Are you alright, girl?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

"Did he hurt you?"

"No."

"Did he force you?"

"No. Are you . . . . . are you gonna . . . . . gonna let us get married?"

"No, Mary Alice, I'm not, and what you two tried to do just proves my point. Grown-ups don't do things like that."

"It's not Bret's fault. It was my . . . . my idea."

Beau sighed. How could he make them understand? "It was a bad idea, whoever's it was."

"Are you gonna punish him?"

Beau shook his head. "Oh, there's punishment in store, but it ain't comin' from me. Be punishment enough when we put you on that stagecoach." He got up from the chair and kissed her on the head. "You get up an get dressed, now, an be packin' your things. You're leavin' on the stage tomorrow to go to your Aunt Sarah." He turned to exit the room and she stopped him.

"Papa Beau, I'm sorry."

"Ain't no need for apologizin' to me, girl. I ain't the one that's been hurt in all this."


	33. A Shred of Hope

Chapter 33 – A Shred of Hope

Beau sat at the kitchen table, trying to control his shaking. Only Ben understood just how much the previous few minutes had disturbed and upset him, and how he'd struggled to keep from doing any physical or emotional damage to anyone. Now that everything had calmed down for the moment, Ben reached over and rested his hand on Beauregard's arm.

"You alright?"

The Maverick patriarch shuddered and answered softly, "Yeah. No. I don't know."

"You did fine."

Beau covered his brother's hand with one of his own in a genuine show of affection. "Thanks. You helped."

Ben smiled, appreciative of both the gratitude and the affection from his older brother. "You goin' to talk to Bart first?"

"Guess I better. He's still pretty upset, huh?"

A nod of the head. "Yeah, he sure jumped in to help Bret right quick."

"I wasn't gonna hit him, Ben."

"I know that. It ain't me that doubts ya."

Beau sighed. "Wait here, would ya?"

"Yeah."

Beau pushed his chair back and got up, walking down the short hall to his bedroom, where Bart had been sent for his own protection. He opened the door to find his youngest son sitting in his overstuffed chair watching out the window. "Bartley?"

He got Bart's immediate attention. "Yes, sir?"

"Can we talk?"

"Yes, sir." Bart started to get up from the chair and Beau motioned him to stay there, sitting down on the floor for the second time today. Getting up and down wasn't as easy as it used to be, and it took him a minute to position himself properly. It seemed odd but somehow fitting to be looking up at his youngest son.

"I'm sorry I scared you."

Bart looked down at his father, who seemed tired and fragile. "I thought you was gonna hit him."

Beau shook his head. "Nope. Never hit ya before, ain't gonna start now."

A moment of silence, then followed by, "I'm glad."

"They done somethin' they shouldn't have."

"But why? Why ain't it right? You're the one told me they love each other."

The father in him sighed. How do you explain what had happened to a thirteen-year-old? "That's somethin' you do when yer married, or older, but not the way they were gonna use lovin' each other – to force me into lettin' 'em get married. Lovin' a woman's a beautiful thing, Bart, and it shouldn't ever be abused that way. I know that's a lot to understand, but does it make any sense to ya?"

"Kinda. I guess. What're you gonna do now?"

"Mary Alice is leavin' tomorrow for Louisiana. What happens with yer brother is up to him."

"What does that mean, Pappy?"

"It means, son, that I ain't mad at yer brother. Just sad for him, cause I know it's gonna hurt to say good-bye. But it ain't forever. They'll see each other next summer. An I still love him, just like I always did. Like I love you. No matter what ya do."

Bart remained still for a moment, then slid down off the chair and sat on the floor next to his father. "Me, too, Pappy. I mean . . . . . "

Beauregard put his arm around the boy and pulled him close. "I know what ya mean, boy."

XXXXXXXX

Bret lay on his bed, back turned toward the door, and was sure his life was over. If there had ever been any hope of Pappy giving his consent to marriage, it was all gone now. Who knew how quickly Mary Alice would be shipped off to Louisiana? Worse than that, they had been caught . . . . . . well, doing something they shouldn't be doing. And as if that wasn't enough, his little brother had jumped in and defended him against – what? Pappy? Was his father actually getting ready to hit him, or had Bart assumed something not in evidence? Either way, he was humiliated. Ergo, his life was over.

So he lay, facing the wall, hoping to die. Waiting to die. Desperate to die. And when he heard the knock at the door he was sure that it was Death come to claim him. Only death sounded an awful lot like Pappy.

"Bret? Can I come in?"

What he wanted to say was, "No, I'm too busy dying." Instead, what he said was "Yeah." He didn't turn around.

"Can you roll over and listen to me?"

"Just go ahead and kill me."

"What?"

"I said just go ahead and kill me."

A soft chuckle, followed by, "I didn't come to kill ya, son."

Finally he rolled over to face his father, who was sitting on his brother's bed.

"Why not?"

"Ya made a mistake, boy, ya didn't commit murder."

"Might as well have."

"Sit up, Bret, and talk to me."

He sighed. "Do I have to?"

"Yes, you do." Pappy's face hadn't changed expression but there was a slight edge to his voice that hadn't been there before.

Bret wasn't about to push his luck, which he figured was in extremely short supply right now. So he sat up, reluctantly, and he watched his feet as they touched the floor. He still hadn't put his boots back on, just his socks, and he wiggled his toes and watched the socks move as if they were the most interesting thing he'd ever seen. Anything to avoid Pappy's line of sight.

"Bret – "

"I'm stupid, idiotic, dumb, and a real jackass. Did I leave anything out?"

Beau got up and moved over to sit next to Bret. "My son?"

That was it. That was all it took for Bret to revert to the little boy he was leaving behind rather than the man he was on the verge of becoming, and for just a minute he buried himself in his father's arms and wept. It was over as quickly as it started, and he sat up straight and moved slightly to his right, away from Beau.

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Learn from it. That's what we all do unless we're too stupid to learn, and you certainly ain't that. Anything worth havin' is worth waitin' for. I learned that with your Momma, an because I was a slow learner she had to teach it to me twice. Be smarter than your Pa. An try not to hate me too much." He reached over and brushed Bret's hair out of his eyes. "Now, go see your girl. She's leavin' tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes sir. The sooner she leaves, the sooner she'll come back. Just one thing – leave the door open. Go now."

Bret was conflicted. He wanted to hate Pappy for sending Mary Alice away so quickly, but he wanted to thank his father for not doing anything worse to him than had already been done. Unable to make a decision on his feelings, he decided just to ignore them for the moment and do what his father suggested – go spend the time with Mary Alice instead.

XXXXXXXX

"You're still in one piece, I see."

Beauregard nodded. "Yep. For the moment. Lord knows what it'll be like after tomorrow, but for right now it's calm."

"You sendin' her to her aunt tomorrow?"

"I think that's best. She was goin' in the next few days anyway. The sooner she's gone, the sooner things can get back ta normal. Whatever normal's gonna be from now on."

Ben nodded towards the boys' room. "Have much trouble with Bret?"

"Not as much as I expected. I think that'll come later when he realizes how long it is till next summer."

"That offer I made is still open; anytime you need it," Ben reminded him.

"Can I leave them here and come over instead?"

Ben laughed. "Now what kind of an example would that set?"

"Example, hell. Just for some peace and quiet."

"Just remember, if it gets bad – "

"I know. I'm hopin' if it gets that way it don't stay like that for long."


	34. An Abundance of Sad Good-Byes

Chapter 34 – An Abundance of Sad Goodbyes

While his father and brother slept, Bret sat up with Mary Alice and talked all night. They had so much to say to each other and so little time left to say it in. When the sun finally came up they had fallen asleep on the covers on her bed, the girl wrapped up in the boy's arms, her head no more than a kiss length away from his.

Beauregard was up with the sun; he'd been awake most of the night, not quite sure how this day was going to begin or end. Bret seemed to be alright with things as they stood when he and Pappy had last spoken, but Mary Alice was still here, in Texas, in the valley, in this house. What he'd be like once she was on her way to Louisiana was anyone's guess.

When the coffee was started, Beau wandered outside to complete the chores the boys usually took care of. There were nights he couldn't sleep, and Beau had found it helped to busy oneself physically when those bouts of 'Maverick insomnia' hit. He fed and watered the horses, then gathered the eggs from the hens. He left milking the cow to his youngest son – he still hated doing the milking and avoided it at all costs.

He was surprised to find he had company when he came back inside – and even more astonished by who it was. Bart had already gotten out two coffee cups and poured for both of them.

"What in the world are you doin' up?" Beauregard asked as he set the egg basket down in the kitchen. Bart shrugged. And handed Pappy his cup.

"Worried."

"About yer brother?"

"Yeah." Pause. "An you."

Beau was surprised by the last remark. "Me? Why me?"

The boy sat down at the table. "Cause it's not gonna be pleasant with me at school an Bret not speakin' to you."

Beau pulled out a chair and sat. "Ya think that'll happen?"

A nod accompanied the answer "Yeah. At least." A minute or two passed as if Bart was considering the next suggestion. "Course we can rectify that."

"An just how would we do that?" Beau grinned at his youngest, always looking for a way to accomplish what he was about to propose.

"I could quit school. Know how to read. Know how to write. Know how to play poker, count money, an count cards. Don't need to know any more than I do right now."

"Well, boy, I appreciate the offer. But I don't think that's gonna solve our problem."

"Ya don't?"

"Nope. I don't think that's gonna make yer brother talk to me."

Bart nodded solemnly. "No. Probably not. But you'd have me to talk to."

Beau chuckled; he couldn't help it. Bart would find any way he could to get out of going back to school; even, within reason, using his brother's coming heartbreak. "Give it up, son, you're goin' to school next week."

"Oh." The downcast tone didn't last long. "Oh well, it was worth a try." And he laughed good-naturedly.

Bret picked just that moment to walk down the hall and into the kitchen. "What time's the stage?" he asked, without saying 'Good morning' to either of them.

"Noon," Beau answered. "And good morning to you too."

Bret said nothing more; he got down a cup and poured coffee, turning around and taking it back to Mary Alice's room. His father sighed. It was going to be a long winter.

XXXXXXXX

"Wish I had one a them dang pictures of you to keep here," Bret announced to Mary Alice as she brushed her hair. The girl kept brushing, but nodded in agreement with his statement.

"We'll just have to remember what we each look like."

He got up off the bed and crossed the room to where she stood in front of the window. Bending down, he took the brush from her hands and began the task himself. He continued and moved around in front of her, then leaned down again and kissed the girl, taking her in his arms and hugging her tightly to his chest. "I'm gonna miss this," he whispered into her hair.

"Just don't do it with any other girl," she murmured back to him.

"I won't," he promised. "Only you."

"I'm going to get a job," she told him. "And save my money. So I can come back to you next summer."

"We can get married then," Bret promised her. "We'll both be sixteen and there won't be nothin' they can do to stop us. An we'll go live on your ranch, an take Bart with us. I'll play poker and make us some real money. I love you, Mary Alice. Don't you go fallin' for no slick talkin' city boy."

They kissed again and she retrieved the brush from his hands. "You remember that too, mister. Don't you let any of those fancy ladies turn your head when you go to those towns playing poker."

"I won't even look at 'em," he told her.

Beauregard appeared in the doorway. "Ready to go?"

Mary Alice nodded; Bret said nothing. He picked up her bag with his right hand and held her hand tightly with his left. They followed Beau outside and Bret helped her into the buggy, then got in himself. Bart sat up front with Pappy, and without any further hesitation, the procession headed for Little Bend.

XXXXXXXX

Beauregard bought her ticket while Bret handed her bag up to Kenny Tolliver, who was driving the stage today. "You goin' too?" Kenny asked.

"Nope," Bret answered. "Just Mary Alice. You take good care of her, will ya Kenny?"

"You know it, Bret," came the reply.

Beau emerged from the ticket office, Bart following close behind. Before Mary Alice got on board the stage, she leaned down to kiss Bart on the cheek, then told him, "You take care of your brother, hear?" The boy nodded.

She hugged Beauregard and kissed him on the cheek, too. "I'm sorry if we disappointed you, Papa Beau. Thank you for everything."

"You didn't disappoint me, girl," he told her. "You take care a yourself."

She nodded, tears in her eyes, and turned to Bret. "I love you, Bret Maverick. You write to me. And don't you dare forget me."

He swept her into his arms one last time and kissed her the way a woman should be kissed. "I love you, Mary Alice Maverick. I promise to write; you make sure you write back. I'll be waiting for you in May." He helped her into the stage and waved good-bye as the horses pulled the coach out of Little Bend.

She waved back and yelled, "I love you!"

Bret watched the coach until it was out of sight. Then he turned and took his brother by the hand, walking back down the street to the buggy. He didn't say one word to his father. Beau sighed and shook his head, wondering how long it was going to be this way. There was only one good thing about the current situation – they couldn't argue if they didn't speak.

XXXXXXXX

Bart was in the river trying to grab onto a tree branch from the back of his horse. Bret and Beau sat on the bank, leaning up against the base of one of the ash trees that grew close to the riverside. Every few minutes Bret would pick up a stone and skip it across the water. Beau had given up trying; even his thirteen-year-old cousin was better at it than he was. "Whatta ya gonna do now?"

"Don't know," Bret muttered. "Ain't much to do."

"Nah, I mean about yer Pa. Talkin' to him an stuff."

"Got nothin' to say to him," came the fifteen-year-old logic.

"Can't stay that way forever. Not if you're gonna be ridin' places with him an Pa for poker."

"Don't have to stay forever. Just till May."

Beau sighed. "What good's it gonna do?"

Bret laughed a little. "Don't hafta do no good. Just hasta aggravate him."

"Oh, it'll do that, alright. So that's the whole point? Just to aggravate him?"

He had the older boy stumped for just a moment. "Well, yeah, I guess. Ain't no way to make him as miserable as I am, so aggravation'll do."

"Hey, you two," Bart called from the river. "You comin' in or sittin' there all day? School starts on Monday! Shut up, Bret!" he yelled before his older brother could say or do anything to point out that school started for them, and not him.

Beau stood up and unbuttoned his shirt. "Yeah, I'm comin'!"

Bret continued to sit under the tree. "Not right now. You two BOYS enjoy the water." He picked up another stone and skipped it out across the river, watching the ripples it made as it bounced. Wondering just how things would stand and where he'd be when May finally came back around. One thing he was absolutely sure of. He loved Mary Alice Tompkins and he fully intended to marry her, as soon as he could. That, he was certain, would never change.

The End


End file.
